




' > 


IT ^ 


M 


1 . . • 

I 




J 


1 • 


I k 


• • 


• . 


1 • 


' 't 


’» . 






‘ I’ 


I I 

.. I , 


1 1 *s, 

i. ,■ 


/ ' 
j 


• « 


i 

I 


I I 


< 1 


* i ’ 

> * • 

^*.1 


i-' 


■ . 1 * 


’ji 


/ ' '►'i ^ 

I 


. t 

• t 


r.- 


I » 

4 


t 


V 




■l 

/ t 


I 


. «• 


s 


« . « 
I 



A 



M m 





-V V 




.• 




4 


t * 


e 

4 . 


# 

% 


.1^ 


ii 


4 


V 


PS.V- 






‘T/ 
• ^ • 


S^i %'V 

'i-; 'Sh', / '^', ^ '■’■^; ■- 




V. 


K 


^r' 

I 

•r 


. . • ••l't 



k - 


.-»< 


“•. 1 .. V 

i * ‘f ' 


• V' 


* • ^ 

r 


vsr 


- y 


9 ^ 


V - t. .. 


• "' J* • ^ 

• ^ # 

U 4 <y • 

I r ^ 


^ t 4 
I Ip 




t'- 


/■ , 

I 

^ 


I 


t • 
> 






•inr- • « • r 


:-fc 

«♦ 


> * 


.V 


vl * ^ ^ 


„ > 
^ ^ 1 * 


f 


\ 

♦ 




> • 













. #N ' 



r^vr :;■ 

• ^ # 

• 

«• 

« 


•» ’» .* 

• 

■// . 

$ ' 

« , 

' t- 

■ 

1 , 

• r’ 

» 


f , 

• 1 


* • • 


" ,S 

*> - 

. '•i • 

M • 

.'<• "-• 

' , * 

* # 



V 


*» 

# 4 




4 « 


4.:; ' 

A' . 


L- 

-»1 

r 


li 




A 


y^f • ^ • 


i 




% 


r I 




j- 


IC 


4 •• 

'■ r' :•’ • 

•; 


4 

> # 


* ^ 




^ i • 

f. 




« «• 


I 


’* .'i 


/ 

4 

t . 


. I 


• >^ 


1? 


JS "! ' « 

’ ' - ‘C • 


.V 


« k 


A A 


r^ 

I 

• t 


% s 




• 4 


4 . • 


, - .' • 

te 


a , ^ 


. A 

m 9 



. 4 ^ -•; -* ■ 


I 


I » 


t , 




I P* • 




« 

^ > 


« I 

« » 






) t 


» * , - -• 

»•>“.' -* •- 


-I 




.J-' 


\ 




ir 


I I 
%« 

TT • 


« » 




» r 






V* 


# 


r 


f 




' «■ .' 

: 1 .,.: vri ^:--'- ' - - 


s ... 




V-^ 




(I 


4 * 




K » 


-. i 




y ' **•' ' 
^ S» i. ■ /4 ? . . 




> 

I 

t 


I $ 






cai 

\ 


t ■ 

V ' ^ * 


. \ 




T 


.1 


► f* 




t I 

4 


■ r-^r 4 


A 




r ^ V - 4 - 

- • 4 • * 




4 • 


tr 






*1 


V r. 


. ♦. 


• 'k « 


I . 


•I . 


• • 



I V - 




n 


***2 <' ’ ^ 


[ 




« 


.*1 




v. ' »■- 


•? 

.y 


r I 




• V 


« 


i;MLf' '*■ V. 

•' tCS .• . ; .y. 

•'. &- . *•■'’ .yr.' : / 

” j 44 U ' *• ,«l yA^ 

' :*/ .O ^ « ,* (. - 

^ ■/*'.. '*i:.'^r>' " 

.;;ii^,/' sj ,'■■ t- .. 

-J i- V 




) 









►"T 


1v 




* V 

.. ..*• / 

jL t _* .- * 


t, y 


'« % 


. V 

f ' 

s 

I 


s 


. . v.» • 


- 

' » * 

i w 


I t 


'y .k* 


»# 


I ^ 


I- 


«r 



V 

C.u 




, A 


I > • » 




t . ■' 


I ^ 




*1 •> 


. t 


I 1 


I » • 4 

p * V** 


« 




f>y ''<^ -• *' A 

• y ^ i 


I, 


4 ^^ 




U •V 

r -#, 4 ^ 


I ( 


■• • 


- r * M-Cj 


t • I . t • 


V . ;.-i' 


r f 

i , 


^ >• 


•\;'‘V-,'. ^ ' 

: ‘ . ’‘n f 






» • 


V- 


•. - « *s - 

• -*» 


4' • % 


I ' » 




* 






p>- 




• :r^ 


I •* 


-. • » 


_ , 1 . •. ^ • »*■ r 
. ✓. ^ -U-p 


» - 

/ <i' .'• '' 

< #^t: 1 . **. •. xl 


* . t 

' ♦ 


■ -<^1 - ...yy'^-. ■ 

. '■ t"-' •* t “> '* -'.* 

/w ,.V v»'*> ■• '.r/V ‘.-.f J*'. -i 


A 


AHEAD OF THE HOUNDS 


A Story of Today 


BY 


/ 


LYDIA PLATT RICHARDS 


CHICAGO 

CHARLES H. KERR & COMPANY 
1899 



39467 


Copyright, 1899 


By Charles H. Kerr & Company 


TWO OGPu Vi 



Library of Progress, No. 31 Quarterly, 5i.oo a year May, 1899 

Entered at the Postofi&ce, Chicago, as second-class 


1 


AHEAD OF THE HOUNDS. 


CHAPTEK I. 

It was growing light in the east that July morning 
when John Martindale locked the front door of the 
lonely old cottage which had been his home for five 
years — five long years of ardent study and daily hand- 
to-hand combat with poverty. 

Though poor, John was by education and inherited • 
tendencies both honorable and accurate. He hung 
up the door key high on the nail which he had driven 
for that purpose, for he was going away, forever. 
The landlord would have no trouble finding the key. 
John had been an ideal tenant. He held in his hand 
a grip, small and much faded and worn. Over his 
shoulder was his rolled blanket, as soldiers carry 
theirs when marching. He was going out in the 
world, poor, friendless and youthful. He was an 
orphan, who had recently buried his mother, his last 
known relative. There was supposed to be a half- 
brother somewhere in the wide, unknown world. To 
search for him was the object of John Martindale’s 
travels. A needle in the hay mow were easier to find. 

He had a long march before him; an all-summer 
campaign, if not a journey of a lifetime. He walked 
5 


6 

fast, with the light, springy steps of ardent, hopeful^ 
youth, like one who knows where he is going and is 
eager to reach his destination. 

In Ann Arbor John had one intimate friend. Pro- 
fessor Broadmind. He had been a college chum of 
John^s father, the late Colonel Martindale, also a com- 
rade and brother officer in the same regiment. John 
loved Professor Broadmind, perhaps for the reason 
that the professor first loved him. It pleased the 
poetic, imaginative hoy to hear the professor tell of 
the noble, unselfish deeds done by the gallant colonel, 
who died when John was 11 years old. 

John had graduated in June at the University of 
Michigan. Without property or the ties of kindred, 
he was free to obey his mother’s dying request; the 
request that he should go out into the world and find 
his half-brother, Hugh Martindale — his only living 
kinsman, and he might not he living. It was merely 
a chance, a possibility. It had been ten long, sad 
years since they had heard from Hugh Martindale. 
However, John was young, hopeful and enthusiastic. 
Moreover, he was a poet, with lofty ideals and a broad 
and strong imagination. With a light heart and a 
fieet foot John was starting out on his pilgrimage. 
He was going to walk, to tramp, being too poor to pay 
railway fare. 

When he reached the home of Professor Broadmind 
the sun was up and shining on the dew-damp verdure. 
The professor, who was an early riser, was out in his 
garden. When he saw John coming, in such an un- 
usual outfit, he came out to meet him, sa 3 dng: ^^Good 


morning, John. Yon are out tramping sooner than 
I expected.^^ 

“Yes,” John answered, with youthful self-suf- 
ficiency. “I have started to walk to Cahfomia. I 
am going to find my half-brother, Hugh. You knew 
his mother, long before you saw my mother.” 

“Oh, yes; I knew HuglJs mother. She was a 
Princeton belle — a beautiful woman, but not gentle, 
sweet and spiritual, like your lovable mother. I pre- 
sume you half-brothers will be as unlike as your 
mothers. Let me see; Hugh must be over thirty. 
How time does slip away. It seems but yesterday 
that I fell from my horse, bleeding and fainting. It 
was at Oettysburg. I gave myself up for dead. I 
can even now see your father as he came, jumped from 
his horse, lifting me, wounded and helpless, upon 
the saddle, and leading the spirited horse, with its 
burden, back to the hospital tents. I shall not forget 
that day. Your father saved my life at the double 
risk of his own. I have tried many ways to do some- 
thing for you and your delicate mother, but you 
seemed queer, or proud, and would receive nothing 
but kind words and a few old books for your use.” 

“We had mother’s pension,” answered John, with 
sturdy pride. “We could hve on that, at least. It 
was all we had and we made it stretch out thin. It 
sutficed.” 

“Yow you have decided to go; in fact have started, 
on foot, too, with little money and less experience, 
to find a brother whose address is unknown and 
existence uncertain,” said the professor, in tones of 


I 


8 

great disapproval. I have no patience with 

such folly. I am your friend. I will find you a situ- 
ation, where you can earn money and then reach Cali- 
fornia before you can walk there. It is far and you 
are not used to walking.” 

understand and admit,” replied John, unmoved. 
^^Nevertheless, I am going. If I fail it will not be 
because I hesitated.” 

^^But you are a scholar, a born gentleman; you have 
genius; you are an original, radical thinker; you have 
written the finest poems ever written by any student 
in the university. I protest against your turning 
tramp. It is folly, madness, preposterous rashness. 
It is scandalous. It is a mock and an insult to your 
instructors, a shame put upon our methods and a dis- 
grace to the whole university.” 

^“^Do not blame me too much,” pleaded John, sadly, 
^^f or I must go, and go now, and go as I am going.” 

^^You will be forced to beg. You will become a 
vagrant and be arrested and sentenced to work in the 
chain gang, with hoboes and criminals,” continued 
the professor, with scornful warmth. 

intend to ask fraternal assistance,” declared 
John, with decided assurance. 

^^Do you know what it is to be hungry, starving 
and begging bread?” 

“No, but I am going to know,” exclaimed Jolin, 
with the faith of youth and the confidence of a novice. 

“I can tell you what it is to beg bread. It is to be 
driven from door to door with cruel, cutting refusals. 
It is to sleep by the roadside without supper; to be 


9 

arrested in the morning because yon have no money 
to buy yonr breakfast. It is to be fined because your 
pocket is as empty as your stomach. It is to be sent 
to jail because you are unable to pay this humane and 
fraternal fine. It is to work in the chain gang, with- 
out pay; to teach you to conceal your utter destitution 
and encourage you to become a criminal. Ho, John, 
son of my friend, you must not do this. I will get 
you a pass or buy you a ticket to California and wait 
for the money till you become a famous writer.’’ 

^^Ho; I am going now. I could not wait an hour. 
If you wish to do me a favor then get something to 
mark my mother’s grave. That is my only regret, 
that I cannot buy her a gravestone. 

will do this for you — not only for your sake, but 
because I owe it to your father.” 

^‘You are kind and I really do thank you for your 
interest in my welfare. I did try to work and earn 
a little more money. I have nearly four dollars, hut 
I have no heart nor interest in mere money-getting. 
I want a change, some new sensations to drive off my 
morbid melancholy. Mother understood this and 
told me to go and search for Hugh.” 

^‘^You will find plenty of new sensations if you 
tramp through to California, begging your rations,” 
added the professor, with infinite disgust. ^Y^ou have 
kept too much h}^ yourself. You should have made 
friends among the students apd gone out in society.” 

^^Society,” said John, bitterly. ‘^‘Indeed, I was a 
fine candidate for social functions. I never had any 
clothes but my school suit. I washed and ironed 


10 

my own shirts^ as well as made them. That I studied 
and persisted was to please mother. That I stood 
first in my classes was fore the same reason. I, myself, 
have no desire, no ambition, to stand above or beyond 
any living person. That I graduated with honors 
was the last pleasure that I was permitted to give her. 
Somehow mother seemed to think if I graduated at 
the university with honors I certainly must and would 
amount to some great thing. As became the son of 
Colonel Martindale, I consented to study, thinking 
perhaps it would better fit me for my life work among 
the poor and fallen outcasts of our social failure. I 
never hoped, wished nor desired to better my own 
personal condition. Did Christ labor to improve his 
own condition or the condition of others? He went 
down among the .poor workers to learn their hfe and 
their conditions. He worked with them, suffered and 
died for them. I, who am his follower, must do the 
same. I must complete my education where I can 
learn the things I must know; before I write I must 
understand my subject. In imagination I must be in 
harmony with my themes.^^ 

^^Ephraim is joined to his idols. Let him alone,*’ 
laughed the professor, reproachfully. “Your father 
had some of your Utopian ideas, but when he lost his 
ancestral home through the knavery of a man whom 
he had aided and defended then he began to have a 
little more respect for respectable people and popular 
methods and let the unfortunates look out for them- 
selves.” 

^AVhat! Do you mean to tell me that my father 


turned his hack on the poor and mentally weak just 
because he lost his property?” 

^^Oh, no; not exactly that. They turned their 
hacks on him when he had nothing more to tempt 
their cunning cupidity. He died broken-hearted. 
He was sorely disappointed in humanity. The real 
throttled his ideal and this grieved him.” 

^Toor father! I remember he was always sad after 
we lost our fortune, but that would not disturb me. 
I am glad to have no property to hold me anywhere. 
I am free, even if I am a begging pilgrim, like any 
other son of the highway.” 

“John, T have no patience with such foolishness,” 
declared the professor with the utmost scorn. “It is 
social suicide and political anarchy. When once you 
get among strangers, ragged, dirty, moneyless and 
altogether disreputable, you could not get a district 
school to teach. ISTo; not even if you had the knowl- 
edge of Humboldt or the wisdom of Solomon. Ee- 
nounce this insane freak; earn money and advertise 
for your lost brother.” 

“Ho; I must do this. It is part of my education to 
know life and men at their worst, as well as at their 
best.” 

“We are told,” remarked the professor, pointedly, 
“that experience teaches a dear school. You seem 
to be one of the students bent on taking a full course 
in that some old school. But come in. Have some 
breakfast while I write you a letter of introduction 
to Judson Eush of Los Angeles. He will help you 
find your brother and help you in many ways to get a 


12 

situation, or study law in his office. Moreover, I will 
write him to he on the lookout for a tramping Homer, 
blinder than a bat to his own interests; a genius 
clothed in rags and begging hread.’^ 


CHAPTEE II. 


He who grapples with himself finds a hard, merci- 
less antagonist. Self-combat and self-conquest try 
the strength of our will power. John knew himself, 
his weakness and his strength. He had fought with 
himself, long and often, always victorious, yet never 
discouraged nor yielding. He continued the conflict 
with renewed vigor. 

After leaving his beloved professor he assailed him- 
self, doubting and debating the course he was pur- 
suing. Did his mother desire him to start out with- 
out money to walk to California? Alas for poor John 
Martindale; his reason answered ^^no.” Then why 
was he doing this thing? Was it madness, as the pro- 
fessor had said? Was it obstinacy, laziness or a reck- 
less love of adventure? 

When he analyzed his motives he was forced to ad- 
mit that they were not above criticism. Still, if he 
were doing wrong he alone would suffer, since there 
were none dependent on him. He was only one little 
erring unit in the great sum of human existence. 

He walked fast, like one who is preoccupied or 
laboring under some great excitement. He looked 
backward but once. Then he took off his hat and 
looked long and mournfully toward the place where 
his mother slep in her unmarked grave. There were 
13 


14 

tears in his e3^es — tears of real, manly anguish. Soon 
he turned sadly away and v^alked faster than before. 
The truth is this. John Martin dale was overwrought 
by hard study and mental strain, together with work, 
care, nursing his sick mother and the utter despair 
and loneliness of his bereavement. He was doing the 
one thing left open for his poverty and spiritual un- 
rest. The utterly destitute have little choice — mad- 
ness, suicide or the highways. 

John chose the latter as the lesser evil. Besides he 
persuaded himself it was the one thing needed to 
round out his sympathies with universal humanity. 
To see, to feel, to hear is to know. To suffer is to 
understand suffering. To tramp, to beg, to hunger is 
to get down to the bed rock of social misery. The 
groaning, writhing of the submerged ^Tenth,”’ wdio 
can feel for them who never felt that awful, crushing, 
grinding pressure from the laughing, joyous multi- 
tudes standing on their prostrate, tortured bodies? 
John was right. Instinct is always right. He must 
go down among those who weep and suffer. He must 
taste the bitterness wdiich they are forced to drink. 
He was confirmed that he was doing his manly, fra- 
ternal duty. Moreover, he was possessed by the 
American spirit of progress and unrest. He had a 
desire to go and to investigate. 

That California was far away gave it an added 
charm. That his brother was there made the quest 
like the old crusades — a religious duty. He thought 
often of the good old knights, undaunted by time, 
distance, dangers and bodily suffering. What was he. 


15 

John Martindale, to hesitate, waver and weakly turn 
back? Xever. While the highway was free and 
open hunger might torment and jails retard, but they 
should not overwhelm nor intimidate. He would find 
his brother. Of this he had an abiding faith. Others 
might doubt. He did not. Hence his courage was 
sustained by faith. The dim, unknown future was 
coming up sweet and smiling — beautiful as a poet’s 
dream. The present counted as nothing; it was the 
future that was glowing with dazzling radiance. 

John walked all day. He was too excited to heed 
the July heat, the dust or his protesting feet. Once 
he stopped by a shady well to drink and eat the lunch 
given him by the professor’s thoughtful wife. 

Toward evening he grew weary and hungry, so 
much so that he decided to seek food and shelter. 
He stopped at a neat little farmhouse and asked, 
without shame, if the}^ could give him something to 
eat. 

The farmer’s wife looked at him in a pitying, moth- 
erly, yielding way. She saw a pale, slender young 
man, almost a boy, handsome as Adonis, with angelic 
brown e3^es, a dimpled, sad-smiling face, sweet and 
innocent as a guileless babe. She then glanced at his 
clothes; they were cheap, ill-fitting and threadbare. 
He wore an outing flannel shirt and tie of the same, 
both made by his own hands. He looked what he 
was — a good young man who was poor. He might 
be a genius, a poet or reformer. He certainly was 
neither wicked nor selfish. 

Looking him over, after the manner of country 


16 

women, she answered him in a cheerful voice: ^^Yes, 
indeed. You can have supper with us and welcome. 
Come in and have a seat. Supper is almost ready.” 

She brought out another plate, making some quick 
improvements, as though some honored guest had 
arrived unexpectedly. John watched her flying 
through the room, cooking, straining milk, guiding 
and controlling six hungry, vigorous children. With 
all this work and care, she seemed content, happy 
and interested in her rural duties. Bright-eyed and 
robust, to her life meant labor and sacriflce for others. 
She was not pining for the ideal or the unattainable. 
She was simply and humbly doing what her hands 
found to do. This gave her pleasure and unfailing 
happiness. 

When supper was ready she placed a chair to her 
right, inviting John to a seat beside her. She was a 
mother. She thought of the possible future of her 
own sons. 

After supper the farmer asked John if he smoked. 
John was most emphatic, if not scornful, in his nega- 
tive answer. ^^Well, then, if that is so you can sleep 
on the hay in my barn. But no man who smokes 
sleeps in my barn with my consent.” 

John thanked him, taking his grip and blanket 
went to the barn. He spread out his blanket on the 
new-mown hay and slept the sleep of youthful weari- 
ness. In the morning John awoke early, folded his 
blanket and went out to the stock well, making his 
toilet with the care and exactitude of a reflned moth- 
er’s boy. 


17 

The farmer was up and throngli milking. He 
called out to John, saying: ^^Come in and have a 
snack before starting.” John needed no second in- 
vitation, for he had already achieved an appetite that 
would do credit to a hired man. 

Warm cream biscuits, poached eggs and fresh but- 
ter disappeared as if by magic. Such appetites and 
such abundance would have scandalized a city break- 
fast table. John followed the family example. He 
was a credit to the tramping brotherhood of hunger. 
He put in his work with willingness and speed. Even 
the fat-faced urchins stared in admiration. Such 
knife and fork dexterity astonished and invited imi- 
tation. They were slow and somewhat awkward, hut 
John never wavered or hesitated. There were no 
mistakes nor clumsy hlunderings. Smooth, grace- 
ful and expeditious, like the work of an expert. Ho 
wonder the rural aspirants gazed in admiring aston- 
ishment. 

After the onslaught of the breakfast campaign 
John resumed his westward march. He was in good 
spirits, pleased with the world and with himself. He 
even fancied his journey to the coast would he like a 
summer picnic, long drav/n out. But Michigan is 
not all the country; neither are all farmers hospitable, 
nor fraternal. In all his future experiences that one 
first night stood out bright, blessed and solitary. 

The next night he slept in his blanket beside an 
old stack bottom and breakfasted on dry, stale bread 
and skimmed milk, given sparingly, if not grudgingly, 
nevertheless, he continued to ask for food whenever 


18 

he was “ahiingered.’^ This he did without shame or 
embarrassment. How one of his delicate, sensitive 
nature could do this is explained by his belief in the 
brotherhood of man and the fatherhood of God. The 
children of one father — God — were brethren and 
therefore in duty hound to assist one another; this was 
his social theory. It worked well so far as he himself 
was doing the work, hut when others were the doers 
or acting agents then the theory did not work so 
well. There seemed to be a hitch and a break, if not 
an utter failure. The combination would work if the 
worker started with the right phrase, ‘^Our father in 
heaven’^; hut the great and overweening majority 
have a theory beginning with, ^^me and myself’^ and 
ending with ^‘^devil take the hindmost.” Hence John 
and his theory were not in harmony with the social 
majority. 

Inasmuch as his theory was sufficient for himself, 
he felt no shame or sense of degradation in begging 
nor asking bread from his more fortunate brethren. 
Moreover, to refuse such simple assistance, what sin, 
what infamy, what recreancy! John, in his applied 
Christianity, thought and firmly believed that it 
would be a pleasure to the more fortunate to aid and 
assist him in his need, or unavoidable destitution. 
Poor, simple John Martindale. He had much to 
learn, though a university graduate. 

However, while walking through Michigan, the 
state made famous by the fraternal labors of a Pingree, 
he never once suffered from hunger. Heither did he 
want in northern Indiana. Sometimes he was kindly 


19 

refused food for some domestic reason, such as not 
having anything cooked or just given the last 
bread to some other hungry wayfarer, but no direct 
insults, rebuffs or refusals. In his journeying men 
often offered him a seat in their wagons. This helped 
him onward and rested his feet. Once when it was 
raining he bought a ticket and rode on the cars; but 
he was careful and ceased to indulge in such ex- 
pensive luxuries. He bought the ticket as that per- 
mitted him to wait in the station out of the rain. 

But when John reached Chicago an unspoken, un- 
written change in sentiments and language of the 
people forced itself upon his notice, a change that it is 
charity to pass over in silence. Notwithstanding cer- 
tain nameless things, he did not utterly lose heart. 
A hungry man is not prone nor predisposed to see 
beauty in tall buildings, nor in a selfish, vain, lavish 
display of wealth. His hunger is aggravated rather 
than allayed. 

Furthermore, his feet were blistered, bleeding and 
so painful it was agony to walk. His hunger, added 
to the torment of his blistered feet, made walking 
through the Garden state a horror never to be for- 
gotten. 

Illinois, rich and beautiful in the July sun, took 
little note of beggars like John Martindale. His 
hunger, if concealed by silence, was his own concern, 
his own affair. His blistered feet were free to smart 
and swell and travel on, but to ask for bread, for aid, 
for fraternal succor, that was quite another question. 
John even ceased to ask permission to sleep in barns. 


20 

He went stealthily into groves or around haystacks, 
avoiding the habitations of men. It was a sad con- 
dition of things — ^^Ahnngered and gave me not meat, 
naked and clother me not, a stranger and took me not 
in” — the old crucial test of righteousness, true yes- 
terday, to-day and forever. 

John wondered if he were indeed a fool. Why 
could he not see and understand life and society Like 
the great and ruling majority. Why was he so made 
and endowed that living near Christ meant living like 
Christ, our dear brother, who had not where to lay 
his devoted head? John was troubled, not so much 
for himself as for the proud, rich and merciless. 

His shoes had to he mended; three times he bought 
bread. His money was going, little by little. He 
was growing discouraged, if not despondent. 

Some days he took off his shoes, put them in his 
blanket and walked on with hare feet, wetting them 
at every stream and watering trough. The fine dust 
adhering gave him some relief. But his feet were 
tender and unused to such naked tramping. Besides 
the osage hedge thorns lay in wait by the shady path- 
ways. Everywhere he found thorns, thistles and net- 
tles ready to add to his tormenting hunger. He was 
growing nervous. 

One evening in the fleeting twilight as John was 
hurrying through a town, hungry and heartsick, he 
saw a long west-hound freight train standing on the 
siding, waiting for the Overland to pass. Instantly, 
with the instinct of a footsore tramp, he began his 
quick, sly inspection. He was looking and seeking 


21 

for some way to continue his journey and rest his 
afihcted feet. With a thrill of unutterably joy he 
saw an empty car, a dirty cattle car, with one door 
partially open. In mingled hope and fear he watched 
the vigilant hrakeman. At length a favorable mo- 
ment came. John jumped up into the empty car. 
His heart seemed to rise up into his parched and 
starving throat. He breathed fast and audibly. He 
stood pressing hard against the side of the car, as if 
to flatten himself out to invisible thinness. He chose 
his position about half way between the opening and 
the end of the car. Erect and trembling, he listened 
with throbbing heart and whirling brain. Ho one 
came near. He was not discovered. Still, he trem- 
bled like one in a chill, from weakness, hunger and 
intense excitement. 

The Overland came and went. The long freight 
train pulled slowly out and was soon moving westward 
at full speed. John dropped down to the floor in 
the attitude of prayer. His thankfulness was over- 
powering. That he was riding in a foul, uncleaned 
cattle car was as nothing. The ride itself was enough, 
without asking in addition for the odors of the orient. 

There was some soiled prairie hay on the floor and 
a large pile of loose new-mown hay near where John 
stood. Even then he wondered at that pile of clean 
hay. Hevertheless he appropriated it thankfully. 
He spread out his blanket, wrapped himself in it and 
prepared for a comfortable nighEs rest. But the dis- 
comforts of hunger, augmented by the burning pains 
in his blistered feet and the jarring, bumping, grind- 


22 

ing of the cars made sleep impossible. Joy and the 
excitement of going on rapidly toward California at 
length soothed the gnawings of hunger, the fire ol 
thirst and the agony of blistered, lacerated feet. He 
slept with a conscience as silent and nnreproaching 
as that of an infant. He could not understand that 
he was wTonging any one by riding in that empty car 
without pay or permit. He did not think he was rob- 
bing any person or corporation. He had no antago- 
nism nor malice toward any corporation because of 
their past records nor their present methods. He 
had never thought nor studied these things. His 
only thought was that he was riding — riding under 
present conditions was a good thing, a veritable god- 
send. He even went further in his unconventional 
ethics. He fancied that it pleased God to see one of 
his poor, suffering sons put an empty car to such right- 
eous use. So differently do men think! So differ- 
ently do circumstances lead men to reason from the 
■ same data. 

On, on went the creaking, roaring, rushing, clank- 
ing train. J ohn was awakened by steps on top of his 
car. He thought him_self lost, or, more correctly, 
found — discovered; but the footfalls passed on and 
over and were heard no more. 

About midnight the train stopped at a watering 
tank. John did hot guess that the car door had been 
left ajar by design, for a purpose. When the train 
stopped he sprang to his feet with startled alertness, 
flattening his form against the darkened side of the 
car. Soon he felt sure he was, indeed, discovered; 


j:3 

that some dire and terrible vengeance was lurking 
around the partially open door. He heard many 
stealthy steps and hoarse, suggestive whispers. Even 
shadowy heads flitted across the opening. His imag- 
ination peopled the darkness with vengeful brake- 
men and merciless conductors. He was in a nervous 
tremor, not so much from cowardice as from the hor- 
rible phantoms conjured up by his too active fancy. 
The climax came when a man sprung through the 
opening into the darkened car. Then some bundles 
■were tossed lightly in through the opening, followed 
by crouching forms of gliding blackness. Prudence 
kept John silent and motionless. With the courage 
of desperation he waited the consummation of some 
awful tragedy. Six times forms of hideous outlines 
had darkened the opening. Then there came a head- 
like shadow, shoving some heavy packages through 
the opening. To John’s excited imagination all 
these forms of mystery were for his punishment or 
forcible eviction. He thought of the terrible White 
Caps, the Ku-Klux and the Vigilants and trembled. 
Again he imagined it was some new and demoniac 
method to intimidate or mutilate tramps, some cruel 
and unusual chastisement, designed and carried out 
in the interest of capital. 

The distorted head at the opening was speaking, in 
suppressed, screeching whispers, saying: “Boys, here 
is a five-gallon can of water. It must last you, for 
now I must close the door. Keep mum when the cars 
stop; don’t smoke at stations nor light matches in the 
night, for the light will flash out through the cracks 


24 

and light np the weeds; he careful and doubly cau- 
tious. By-hye.^^ He drew the door almost shut, hut 
it stuck and defied his single-handed efforts. The 
crack was an inch wide, if not more. 

At first the car seemed black with darkness. J ohn 
dropped softly and slowly down on his blanket and 
listened to their whispered remarks. Could they be 
tramps, like himself, or were they a gang of murder- 
ous train robbers? Whoever or whatever they were, 
one thing was certain, they were preparing to remain 
in the car. This seemed worse than any phantom 
which his imagination had pictured. They were 
groping around, whispering orders and suggestions. 
They found the pile of hay and were spreading it out 
and settling down for an all-night’s Journey. 

Soon the long train was in motion; then the car 
seemed filled with voices, strained, excited, discordant 
and muffled. The men grew exultant, if not hilarious. 
Their mirth was suppressed and their laugh smoth- 
ered and constrained. Jokes, boasts, slang and pro- 
fanity deluged the already reeking car. Some were 
eating and drinking in the darkness. They passed 
food around by sense of feeling. John silently held 
out his hands in the darkness. Some one gave him a 
biscuit sandwich. 

After eating some of the men groped their way to 
the car corners, where they lighted their pipes, 
screening the lighted matches with their crouching 
bodies. In the flashes of light John caught glimpses 
of the six men. They were not the ideal or ordinary 
traiiips. They were well-built, fine-featured Ameri- 


25 

cans, neither stupid, old nor strikingly ragged. • They 
njight he toughs, but never paupers. 

John did not speak. The darkness concealed him 
and he was willing to remain unknown. If they 
t’ouclied him they merely thought him one of their 
number. He was soon convinced that they were, like 
himself, beating their way across the continent. They 
were not saints nor unselfish social reformers. He 
inferred they belonged to the opposition. 

Cne voice was gloating and boasting of some bril- 
liant feat of ^^swiping,^’ which filled his tones with 
rapture. Another was relating some personal tale 
wherein he had deceived the confiding and sympathetic 
public by his pretended filial sorrow — a dying mother, 
a moneyless, loving son, unable to reach her bedside 
in time to gladden her d3dng eyes and receive the 
maternal blessing — thereby just scooping in the dimes 
and nickels. 

A third vaunted his success with pretty waiter 
girls and amorous old cooks, who filled his market 
baskets with choice ^diandouts.” As a collector of 
prime “handout s^'’ he claimed the belt, the national 
championship. 

Then there arose a whispered clamor: “Where is 
the Hnterrified?” “Hello, there, Hnterrified; are you 
here?” “I am here,” replied a voice which John had 
not before noticed. It gave him a strange thrill, as 
of familiar music, long unheard. The voice was low, 
calm and masterful. 

“Where is your big lunch basket?” demanded the 
clamorers with greedy solicitude. 


26 

it is here, all riglit,” answered tlie Unterrified, 
cooll3^ whole clothes basket, crammed full; 

enough to last a week. My friend working in the 
eating house made a clean sweep of everything eat- 
able — boiled ham, tongue, roast beef, pigs^, feet, meat 
pies, tripe, cakes, bread, buns and all the fixings, too 
numerous to mention.” 

^^Bully for you,” the others whispered, in hoarse 
shouts, while the voice of the Unterrified continued: 
‘^But wonH the dailies to-morrow have a new sensa- 
tion — the looting of the eating house on Sorgum ave- 
nue. The long-suffering public will be warned to 
look out for the all-devouring burglar, who swallows 
hams at a gulp and bread according.” 

Again the listeners cheered the Unterrified in 
hoarse stomach tones of whispered hurrahs. 

Before long the conversation grew less forcible, 
gradually shading off down to silence. The men 
were apparently sleeping, for snoring could be heard 
above the roar of the train. John himself was sleepy. 
He felt assured that the men were not after him. 
They had their own affairs, whatever they might be, 
without meddling with him; besides, they had plenty 
of food, which was reassuring. He had eaten one of 
their sandwiches and was less annoyed by hunger. 
He was sure they would give him more in the morn- 
ing. He was even tempted to crawl over and help 
himself, but resisted the sore temptation. Ere long 
he, too, was sleeping. 

He slept till the morning light entered the open- 
ings and made the sleepers visible. John rose up to a 


27 

sitting posture and, looking over toward where the 
voice of the Unterritied had been heard, he saw there 
a strong-featured man, well if not faultlessly dressed, 
Avho was looking at him with incredible wonder. 
When he saw J ohn was awake he crept softly over to 
him, saying in a friendly voice: “Say, hoy, who are 
you ? How did you come here ? How long have you 
been riding in this old barnyard?” 

John straightened up with youthful dignity, as he 
replied, loftily: “I am a university graduate, walking 
to the coast. My feet are blistered and very painful. 
I jumped up in this car last evening to ride as far as 
they will let me.” 

“Where are you going when you reach the coast?” 
asked the Unterrified, not without interest. 

“To Los Angeles, to try and find my brother.” 

“When did you lose this brother?” inquired the 
Unterrified, with mocking solicitude. 

“We lost all trace of him more than ten years ago. 
I remember him well as a handsome, daring young 
man, full of the spirit of American push and enter- 
prise.' He was in Los Angeles when we last heard of 
him, in railroad employ.” 

“Los Angeles,” repeated the Unterrified, with in- 
creasing interest. “I am well acquainted in that city. 
Perhaps I know him. What is his name?” 

“Hugh Martindale,” replied J ohn, concisely. 

At that name the Unterrified recoiled as if struck 
by a blow. But he slapped his head, saying, sharply: 
“Those cursed hlackfiies; they bite worse than a bee 
stings. I finished one of their breed that time, any- 


28 

how. So Hugh Martindale is your straying brother. 
I know him well. Have met him hundreds of times 
in and around Los Angeles. In fact, we are quite 
chums. He is not one hit like you. He is large and 
well-proportioned; in a word, an athlete, a reckless 
sort of a dare-devil; nothing bad about him, only he 
is not your style; not like you in the least. You look 
equal to writing spring poetry and playing on a 
fiddle,” remarked the TJnterrified, with small admira- 
tion for such unmanly accomplishments. 

John Martindale blushed till the crimson was glow- 
ing even in the dimly lighted car, but he made no 
reply. Nothing abashed, the Hnterrified continued: 
^^So you, too, are beating the old corporation out of a 
fare. Here, give me your hand. Any one who will 
steal a ride is my brother.” 

John put out his slender, girlish hand calmly, if 
not coldly. Nevertheless, the Unterrified grasped it 
heartily and pressed it vigorously, if not passionately, 
whispering, eagerly: ‘^Now v/e are brothers indeed. 
What do you say to joining our order, the Lilies of 
Solomon? Our brotherhood is increasing, if not 
flourishing in high places. I will tell you all about 
the order some time; but now I want to hear more 
about your brother, Hugh Martindale. The one I 
know may not be the brother you are seeking. Why 
do you wish to find him? The Hugh Martindale I 
know is as poor as a church mouse,” said the Unterri- 
fied, positively. 

^^His poverty will make no difference with me. I 
am as poor as he is. I seek him because he is my 


29 

only living blood kinsman. My mother’s d3dng 
words were: ‘Go and find Hugh.’ ” 

“Then yon are an orphan/’ mnrmnred the Unterri- 
fied, as he turned away his head to fix the hay which 
they were using as a seat. 

“Yes,” answered John sadly. “Mother died last 
month. Father died nearly ten years ago. He was 
failing when he wrote to Hugh to come home and see 
him. Hugh came. I remember how grand and 
manly he looked. I can tell you this brother of mine 
is a fine, noble man, a brother to be proud of. He was 
the handsomest man I ever saw. At least this is my 
boyish estimate of character and personal appear- 
ance.” 

“Well, now, boy, look here. He may have changed 
greatly in ten years,” remarked the Unterrified, With- 
out passion or emotion. 

“I should know him at a glance,” remarked John, 
with the utmost positiveness. 

“You think so,” continued the Unterrified, in a 
slow, drawling voice. “How, the Hugh Martindale 
that I know is a common-loooking, no-account sort 
of a fellow, so he can’t be your ‘noble brother.’ ” 

“Ho, indeed, he cannot be my brother,” exclaimed 
John, with increasing warmth. “My brother was un- 
commonly bright, brilliant and gifted — almost a 
genius. Father and mother thought him a most 
promising and capable young man. They expected 
great things of him. He seemed so quick and under- 
stood everything at a glance.” 

“Doubtless he is a remarkable young man. All 


30 

absent brothers are. Perhaps he had some loftj 
hopes and notions of yonr genius and ability.’’ 

“I trust so/’ replied John, with much tenderness, 
^^for 1 loved him almost to adoration.” 

^^Now this is growing interesting,” laughed the Un- 
terrified, decisively. lost brother, who may be poor, 
and still adored. Certainly I must and will help you 
find such a roving treasure. In the meantime let us 
have something to eat. I have plenty and to spare. 
Then while 3"ou are eating I will tell you who and 
what I am — a sort of contrast to your handsome and 
promising, lost and lamented brother.” 

am awful thirsty,” said John, simply. ^Uan I 
have a drink first?” 

course. Here is the bottle my friend gave me 
for just such emergencies,” passing a small flask of 
ruby-colored liquid toward John in genial haste. 

‘^Ho, no; not that. I want water. That is whisky. 
I never tasted whisky in my life,” exclaimed John, 
with great repugnance. 

^Uh, this is not whisky, my girl-faced brother. 
This is good French brandy, made in California; good 
to have along in case of sickness.” 

^^You called me girl-faced. That is what Hugh 
alwa3^s called me. He would say: ‘Uome, my girl- 
faced J ohnny; come and do this or that.” 

^'Quite a remarkable coincidence,” remarked the 
Unterrified, carelessly. ^^Say, what have you in that 
old grip there; lots of good things?” continued the 
Unterrified, quizzingly. 


31 

“No,” answered John, qnietly; “nothing hut a 
change of underwear and some toilet articles.” 

“Bet a nickel,” said the Unterrified, “I can tell 
you every article of your toilet service; a razor, tooth- 
brush, hand mirror and a manicure set.” 

“How could you guess so accurately?” 

“In two v/ays; by looking at you and by looking 
into the old grip itself, which I did while you were 
asleep this morning. I see you have printed your 
name on the old thing. At least I infer ^John Mar- 
tindale’ stands for your name. But come, let us eat 
before the others rouse up.” 

He drew the great basket over by John, handing 
him a knife and fork, telling him to help himself to 
ever3dhing or anything he liked, while he went to the 
water can and poured out a cup of water, which he 
handed to John. 

They commenced eating wdthout hesitation or cere- 
mony. John was almost starving and needed no 
urging nor second invitation. 

The Unterrified looked at John more than he ate. 
At least he talked much, telling John of his past life. 
He said: “Now, I will tell you who and what I am. 
It may not interest you much, as it is the record of a 
failure; an utter collapse of all worldly ambition. I 
am known from the Atlantic to the Pacific as the 
‘Unterrified.’ Why I am so called is another story. 
I go by this name. I answer to no other. I want no 
other. I was once an engineer, but in an hour of 
unselfish, fraternal sacrifice I joined a strike in the 
interest of the other boys — a sympathetic strike. 


32 

Now I am blacklisted, a tramp, a hunted, blacklisted 
jailbird. From sixteen jobs the base minions of the 
soulless corporation have hunted me down and caused 
my immediate discharge. ^ly last job — the last 
one I ever will take — was driving a swill cart. J ust 
think of it; an engineer driving a swill cart and not 
permitted by the malice of wealth and power to do 
even that drudgery! Yes; they followed me out to 
that swill wagon and had me discharged that very 
night. That finished the business for me. I was 
done and through forever with work and Avages. It 
took a long time to get it through my conceited head 
that I was anything but a slave, a mean, whipped 
cringing, whining, groveling slave. But when I once 
got it through my thick skull something dropped. 
I went on a strike in good earnest — a life-long strike, 
a strike that counts, the strike of a lifetime. I joined 
the Brotherhood of the Lilies of Solomon, who toil 
not, neither do they spin. I took their ironclad, ter- 
rible oath never to do another stroke of productive 
work willingly nor for hire during my natural life. 
So far no Lily of Solomon has ever broken his awful 
vows. None dare break them. The doom is too ap- 
palling. For one, I have kept my voavs as sacred as 
ever did Knight Templar. I live and hve well, how 
and by what means, that is the concern of law and 
society. They supinely allowed and encouraged that 
band of high-toned robbers to hunt me down and 
debar me from earning an honest living by honest 
labor. Now, if they came to me on their bended 
knees, offering me my old position, I would not take 


33 

it. Law and society made war on me. I return the 
fire. Self-defense is my plea — the plea of universal 
nature. You need not look so horrified. Wait till 
you have had my experience; then you will under- 
stand my position. Our Brotherhood is larger than 
the world thinks. Why should we toil and moil, 
sweat and sow, that another may reap and loll in idle- 
ness? Boy, do you understand the full sweep, scope 
and spirit of their tramp and vagrancy laws? I can 
tell you what those laws are. They are the new fugi- 
tive slave laws, the wage slaves’ fugitive laws, to hold 
or remand the workers hack to servitude. The ex- 
ploiters of labor, who are on top, driving the world to 
the great and final consummation, are both blind and 
mad. The destruction of the world has been foretold 
and the scarlet-coated soldiers of the destroyer are 
preparing the fire and the fuel.” 

^“^And you ask me to join your order?” said John, in 
wide-eyed horror and astonishment. 

merely asked you to join us,” answered the Un- 
terrified, with stoic coolness. ^^There is no compul- 
sion. I belong to the propaganda. I pass around 
flowers — the lilies. But look here, boy, you can eat; 
no mistake about that. You better go slow. Wlien 
did you eat your last square meal?” 

^‘Yot since I left northern Indiana, about a week 
ago. Still, I was not really starving. I often was 
given dry bits of bread. Day before yesterday I had 
two cold baked potatoes. The day before that I had 
a large piece of moldy corn bread. Of course I would 
get quite hungry. At such times I ate raw corn 


34 

dropped in the road by farmers who were hauling ear 
corn to market. I always had an earn of corn in my 
pocket. So yon see I was not starving. Only it was 
not like this tongue and gingerbread. Corn is not 
bad when you get used to chewing the kernels.” 

‘^^Heavensy boy, you have been having a time of it, 
sure. Corn is not bad for swine, but raw corn for 
men! You may excuse me. No wonder you eat like 
a hungry dog. You have gobbled up that whole 
tongue. It may make you sick after your diet of raw 
corn. As I understand your case, you have not been 
faring any too well. Now, cold baked potatoes and 
moldy johnny cake may be filling, but they are not 
found on the menu cards at swell banquets. Illinois 
must do better in her home charities. I shall report 
this to the Crown Bulb of the Lilies of Solomon. 
Cities and localities that are Aveak on ^handouts’ for 
some occult reason are subject to calamities and dire 
disasters — floods, fires, drouths, cloudbursts, army 
worms and cyclones,” hissed the Unterrified, laughing 
in bitter, mocking, joyless mirth. 

“You seem to look on the future with doubt and 
gloomy apprehension,” remarked John sorrowfully. 

“No, sir; not a bit of doubt; certain as fate itself. 
Look at me, a first-class railroad man — a tramp, a 
vagrant. I have been arrested more times for va- 
grancy than you would care to hear. What do you 
think of the chain gang?” 

“I think it bad. All such methods are deplorable 
and not in harmony with the spirit of our institutions. 
Still, you may not have been blameless yourself,” con- 


35 

tinned John, with his nsnal clear impartiality. ‘‘I 
think my own family were the cause of much of their 
own financial trouble. They were too advanced, too 
trusting, too unselfish. The majority of mankind 
have not reached the summit of human brotherhood. 
They are still wallowing down in the mire of swinish 
greed and animal self-gratification. To them the ser- 
mon on the mount is figurative foolishness, neither 
• applicable to men nor to nations.^^ 

^^Hello, there! Hold on! AinT you going too 
fast, even for a spring poet? Thunder, you are get- 
ting there; no mistake,^^ ejaculated the IJnterrified, 
laughing, well-pleased, for some reason which John 
could not wholly understand. 

They were seated near together. John had fixed 
over the hay and spread out his blanket, inviting the 
ex-engineer to a seat beside him. They talked long 
and earnestly, sometimes in hoarse whispers, or whis- 
pered shrieks, signs, nods and gestures. They com- 
pared shoes, blisters and sores; even their dilapidated 
socks. They pointed to the rents in their coats and 
to their frayed trousers. 

The IJnterrified seemed to desire John’s society. 
He led and directed the conversation. John was a 
good and willing listener and for this reason an agree- 
able companion. The Hnterrified asked him many 
questions and seemed interested in every word John 
uttered. But John was not so eager for his unasked 
confidence. In truth, he felt a sense of repugnance 
for the aims and life of voluntary tramphood, willing 
Tagranc}^ and professional indolence and beggary. 


36 

Still, lie was surprised and fascinated by the informa- 
tion and logical resources of the ex-engineer, whose 
active mind, untrammeled by scholastic bigotry, went 
back to the first principles with all the directness and 
audacity of genius. 

After eating a more than hearty breakfast John^s 
university training began to assert itself. His social 
instincts were less torpid, his preconceived moral 
principles more dominant. Nevertheless he contin- 
ued to listen passively to the original, radical rea- 
soning of the ex-engineer, till the very social founda- 
tions seemed to give away and sink, wrecking and 
overthrowing the whole social superstructure, like the 
house builded on sand, and ‘^great was the fall 
thereof.” 

John felt a sickening, shrinking, conservative dis- 
gust for the resistless logic and unusual conclusions 
of this bold, mocldng, ruthless iconoclast. 

John found himself repeating Pope’s lines: 

“Vice is a monster of such hideous mien,” 
as if he hoped thereby to fortify his soul against the 
diamond-cutting logic of this adroit innovator, as he 
lunged, plunged and slashed into the vitals of our 
vulnerable respectability. 

One by one the sleeping tourists roused up, shook 
themselves out, peered through the cracks, remarked 
on the weather and probable rate of speed, ate, drank, 
smoked, told stories and jokes, then lounged off to 
sleep again. They had each looked at John curiously 
if not suspiciously, but as he seemed under the care 
and protection of the Unterrified they thought him 


37 

some novice of the Lilies of Solomon. They bowed, 
smiled and winked at him fraternally, content to 
share his companionship indirectly from afar. Mean- 
time the Unterritied remained seated near John, ar- 
raigning laws, governments and all nnjnst social com- 
binations and institutions with the fire and fury of a 
Spartacus. He justified certain acts and methods 
which have never been deemed just nor fair by the 
majority of mankind. He condemned and execrated 
other conditions and enactments which society, by 
traditions and long usage, have accepted as just and 
politic, if not of divine origin. 

John had never heard the righteousness of war, 
conquest and penal punishment questioned in all his 
short life. He was amazed, shocked, incredulous and 
repelled. Yet he was sitting there in silence, seeing 
American plutocracy turned upside down, denuded, 
revealed, besmeared and distorted beyond recogni- 
tion. Such handling without gloves, such smashing 
of idols, such rending of papers and of parchments, 
such wreck and riot in the holy of holies of our most 
sacred institutions, such dancing and jeering on the 
graves of our most worshipful heroes, were enough to 
make Liberty Enlightening the World get down from 
her pedestal and take to the timber. 

John Martindale shivered and drew backward. In 
his mental and moral commotion he trembled like one 
in a chill. His vivid and active imagination saw so- 
cieties, nations and governments, disrobed and dis- 
honored, standing abashed in their nakedness, gro- 
tesque, infamous and infernal — a vision of anarchy. 


38 

of pandemoiiiiini, indeed like the ^heign of the 
beast.’^ ■ The vision of a social earthquake, upheaval 
and displacement affected his poetic nature like the 
final consummation of the vision seen by John on 
Patmos. Things Avhich John Martindale had been 
taught to revere and venerate the Unterrified spit 
upon, reviled, dragged in the dirt and trampled under 
foot. Such steel-clad logic, such Jovian thunder- 
bolts of facts and figures were indeed a new revela- 
tion. With eloquence horn of glowing, burning 
genius, with scorn that would equal Lucifer, truly the 
Unterrified was terrible. 

John, though silent, continued to tremble. He 
grew pale and faint. His head swayed, drooped and 
finally he sunk down unconscious, like one fainting or 
hypnotized. His sensitive soul yielded to its environ- 
ments. 

The Unterrified was strangely agitated. He caught 
up the unconscious form and carried it to the narrow 
opening made by the unclosed door. He pushed and 
jammed the door, increasing the open space, that the 
fresh air might come in John’s face. The other men 
came up and offered assistance, but the Unterrified 
waved them hack almost fiercely. The car was more 
than warm, the air close and doubly foul and reeking. 
They thought this caused J ohn to faint. But it was 
no ordinary fainting. He remained unconscious, 
like one in a trance or dead. Meanwhile the ex-en- 
gineer continued to rub, pat, fan and aid respiration 
by all the means known to hare-handed science. He 
had learned these things, as he learned everything 


39 

else, partly by observation and partly by intuition, 
tlie sixth sense. 

Having exhausted all material and visible resources 
without effect, he then made numerous mysterious 
motions and passes of occult meaning. At length 
John opened his eyes slowly and wonderingly. He 
then whispered feebly: ^^What is the matter? Did I 
faint?” 

^^Ho; not exactly,” answered the Unterrified. ‘^You 
have been unconscious; a kind of trance. Guess you 
ate too much tongue and gingerbread after your raw 
corn revelry. You are threatened with fever. Can 
you take a quinine capsule?” 

John smiled weakly at the seeming absurdity of 
the question and answered pathetically: ^^Yes; I could 
swallow one if I only had it to swallow.” 

^^Here is the box,” whispered the Unterried, ten- 
derly. ^‘Take two if you can manage the gentlemen.” 
John took two, which seemed to please the ex-en- 
gineer, who said encouragingly: ‘‘That’s right; two 
may knock out the fever the first round.” 

Notwithstanding the two capsules John’s fever in- 
creased. More quinine was given; even a cup of 
strong brandy and water, but to no purpose. Poor 
John Martindale grew more feverish and delirious. 
He had never been robust. Exposure to rains, dews 
and night air, long fasts, poor food, overexertion, 
sleeping under trees, haystacks and in fence corners 
had been too much for his delicate organism. He 
had taken cold, which even quinine failed to break. 
Every one in the car was eager and anxious to do 


40 

something for the sick boy. They helped change 
his underwear and bathe him in brandy and water. 
One nnselfish fellow tore off the body of his last re- 
maining shirt for rags to dress the sore feet of the 
invalid. 

Two days the tramps, or ticketless tourists, con- 
tinued their westward journey unmolested. The 
third night the train was crossing a wide, black, bar- 
ren prairie in western Kansas, where the most alert 
and merciless officials are supposed to be located to* 
watch and guard and work in the interests of the cor- 
poration. Kansas, being by birthmark, by inherited 
tendencies, antagonistic, is met by double antago- 
nism. Kansas is not in high favor among the ex- 
ploiters of the producers of wealth. Her people, her 
young men and young women, inherit the spirit of 
their equality-loving pioneer ancestors — men who 
came to Kansas to fight with ^ffilood in their eye.*’ 
That same old blood, transmitted to their children, 
has lost nothing of its fighting qualities, nothing of its 
resistance to tyranny. Kansas, like Poland, is a case 
of inherited hatred and antagonism. Kansas is not a 
freak nor a social and political monstrosity. Kansas 
is a child of its father and mother, a legitimate off- 
spring of its parents, its forefathers. This birthmark 
of radicalism must not be overlooked nor forgotten. 

That there was an undue or unusual vigilance on 
the part of trainmen had been told the impoverished 
tourists. They had been warned and cautioned. 
Kotwithstanding this admonition, one of the nameless 
Lilies of Solomon, in his zeal to promote the tobacco 


41 

industry, lighted a match in the darkness. The light 
flashed out the opening and for an instant lighted up 
the wayside weeds. Enough; the Alert and Merciless 
saw the flash and chuckled ominously. They slowed 
up and stopped the train out on the open prairie. 
Conductor and brakemen, with gleaming lanterns, 
ran up and down the track, peering and searching for 
the tourists of the ties. They y^ere discovered, the 
door jammed open by enraged and cursing brakemen, 
who sprung up into the car, lanterns in hand, swear- 
ing and kicking in a very unchristian spirit. The 
Eameless waited for no second order to go. They 
snatched up their belongings, jumped out into the 
darkness and disappeared, leaving the Unterrified 
standing over the quivering form of John Martindale 
like a mother defending her sick child. 

The ex-engineer was cool and unabashed. He 
turned to them almost pathetically. He called the 
Alert and Merciless by name, for he knew them. He 
said, with unusual feeling: “Come, boys, curse and 
kick me till you are tired, hut this hoy here is sick, if 
not dying. Don’t touch him; it will be dangerous. 
Let him ride on to some city or on over the moun- 
tains. You all know me; what I was and what I am 
now. Your turn may come next. Then you will 
not forget this one act of fraternal mercy.” 

“Ho, siree; you can’t work that here. You would 
talk the birds down off the trees if they were fools 
enough to listen to j^our blarney. You get off and 
take him along,” growled the Merciless, ferociously. 
“Ho more of your sharp tricks on us; they won’t work. 


42 

You have already smuggled more tramps over the 
mountains than any other living man. No more 
words! Go! Git!’"’ hissed the Merciless, menacingly. 

^^Now, look here, boys, what’s the use?” said the 
XJnterrified, soothingly. ^^Supposing he was your own 
sick brother, what would you think of the man who 
threw him out on the desolate prairie to die in the 
weeds? You know it is five miles to a house. He 
cannot stand, much less walk. If that boy is put out 
in the chill night air on the dew-wet ground he will 
die before twenty-four hours. Then I will go to the 
first Justice and swear that you kicked him off the car 
and murdered him. You will lose your jobs, if noth- 
ing more. But you Avon’t do it. You are not so 
cruel and inhuman. AVait a minute. I have ten dol- 
lars left. AAhll that act as a blinder? Here it is. 
It’s my last red; sorry it’s not more.” 

The Merciless silently reached out his hand and 
took the ten dollars. He and the Alert turned their 
attention to the open door. They commenced to 
Jerk, pull and push the door up into place. Mean- 
while the Unterrified gathered up some food and the 
water can, placing them beside John, who remained 
silent and motionless, if not unconscious. Lastly the 
Unterrified reached down and pressed John’s passive 
hand passionately, leaving in it the box of quinine 
capsules. AAuthout fear, haste or speech he stepped 
down from the car and walked oft into the darkness. 

The car door Avas Jammed up tightly and fastened 
most securely. No more friendly cracks, openings 
or side vieAvs. HoAvever, John Avas too ill to take 


43 

nmcli heed. That he was alone and in darkness, in a 
close, reeking, unventilated cattle car did not trouble 
him. The train jerked, bumped, lunged and was 
soon moving on at full speed. At the first station 
five empty cars were switched off and left standing on 
the siding. Four cars had been ordered for some 
cattle shippers. The fifth car was unordered and run 
off by itself, away up by the bumpers. John was in 
this fifth car, fastened, abandoned and helpless. 

The Alert and Merciless gloated and made merry. 
They had overreached and wreaked their petty venge- 
ance on the TTnterrified by proxy. They found it 
safer and more feasible. 


CHAPTEE III. 


Five days later some Kansas shippers, wanting more 
cars, pushed up the unordered car, near the chutes, to 
be cleaned and bedded down with straw for their use. 
"V\Tien the car door was opened they saw the body of a 
man, ghastly and motionless. That it was a corpse 
needed no confirmation. They sent for some proper 
person to take the body in charge. One shipper, of 
an investigative turn of mind, stepped into the car and 
took hold of the body. It was not rigid. The ship- 
per called out: “He has been dead but a short time, 
as he is not yet cold.” 

“Maybe he is not dead at all, at all,” remarked 
Murphy, the loader. “Taith, and I will see for me- 
self.” 

“He has no pulse,” declared the first investigator, 
with unmoved positiveness. 

“But his heart beats !” shouted Murphy in triumph. 
“He may live jet to bate the old road out of many a 
ride, good ’cess to him,” continued Murphy, in great 
glee, who thought stealing a ride a thing to emulate. 

“Go for the doctor!” brawled the station agent, ex- 
citedly. “This is no common case; I can tell you that. 
There is more to this than shows on the surface,” 
persisted the agent, mysteriously. 

The doctor came, looked wise and calmly sympa- 
44 


45 

thetic, as becomes a shrewd medical aspirant in any 
doubtful or critical case. He ordered the patient 
stripped, bathed and vigorously rubbed. Willing 
hands made quick work. It was Kansas and they 
smelled oppression afar off, like the war-horse of old. 
There was running in hot haste for soap, rags, pails of 
warm water and fresh drinking water. The station 
agent ran off and came flying back with a long night- 
shirt fluttering out from his hand. Meanwhile Mrs. 
Murphy, who lived in a shanty near by, brought her 
only whole woolen blanket to wrap around the ^^poor, 
friendless crater,” as she called him, sorrowfully. 

The bathing, rubbing, fresh air and a few drops of 
stimulant revived him somewhat. His eyes opened 
and his lips quivered as if he was trying to speak. 
His eyes roved around till they rested upon the man 
with the pitcher of drinking water. They under- 
stood that wistful stare. The doctor gave him water 
from a spoon. He swallowed with great difficulty a 
few times, for his throat seemed parched and almost 
paralyzed. Water was given him frequently and with 
good effect. His eyes grew more expressive and he 
whispered: ^^Water.” 

At this Mrs. Murphy clapped her hands joyfully, 
crying out excitedly: ^‘Och, he’s alive, the dear boy, 
in spite of the stingy old road; bad ’cess to the hard- 
hearted old plotocrats.” 

That he was a tramps — a poor, sick boy, stealing a 
ride apparently — this appealed to the heart of ^^bleed- 
ing Kansas” by inherited sympathies. 

Many offered to take the invalid to their homes. 


46 

but Mrs. Murphy claimed him by right of discovery, 
for it was her own Dennis who first felt his beating 
heart. Because of this he was hers to nurse back to 
life, to continue the war. To her all tramps were 
sons of oppression and knights of ^^Our Cause.” If 
any one knows what constitutes ^^Our Cause” then 
they can understand the feelings of Mrs. Murphy. 
Suffice it for us outside barbarians, tramps were in- 
cluded within the much-embracing folds of ^^Our 
Cause” — the ever-green, perpetual, perennial opposi- 
tion. 

After three days of Mrs. Murphy’s ministrations 
John was able to sit up in her stuffed rocking chair, 
wrapped in her new crazy quilt. In the meantime 
she had washed and mended- his clothing, while the 
King’s Daughters of the place had made him some 
new underwear. The shirts were indeed a sight to 
behold. They were like elongated shirtwaists and 
doubtless cut from shirtwaist patterns. John smiled 
when they brought them to him — a smile that was not 
all a smile should be. Nevertheless he accepted 
them in the spirit in which they were given and wore 
them meekly, as a penitent wears his sackcloth. 

Next day they added to his penance. They pre- 
sented him with a pair of tweed breeches of their own 
cutting and making. Dear, sweet, trusting souls; 
they meant well. Their zeal may have exceeded their 
skill or judgment. Nevertheless they shall have their 
reward, in consciousness of doing all they could to 
help an unfortunate brother. That the breeches 
looked more like divided skirts than trousers does 


47 

not discredit their noble, generous intentions. The 
King’s Daughters were all young devotees. They 
took an unusual interest in the case of John Martin- 
dale. Daily he received their sisterly visits. They 
never came empty-handed. Flowers, fruit, eggs, jel- 
lies, cakes, custards, chickens, game and sweet cream 
glutted Mrs. Murphy’s larder. 

John was in good hands — an unconscious hero. 
The whole town was interested in his recovery, but 
most of all the station agent. He scented a mystery, 
a plot or a conspiracy. He hoped to learn something 
from John which would implicate some one and at 
the same time turn or twist around to his own per- 
sonal advancement. He had a genius for straining 
and distorting facts. Some would call him a liar, 
but he was more than that. Any one can tell a com- 
mon, vulgar lie. But the station agent went beyond 
such cheap, weak falsehoods. He made the mere 
statement and arrangement of facts do his lying for 
him. He had the genius of a criminal lawyer or a 
boodle politician. He was ambitious but not cruel, 
intriguing but not malicious, selfish but not vicious. 

To him there were design and purpose in John’s 
being fastened up in an unordered cattle car and left 
standing on the siding. That basket of food, that 
can of water, that new-mown tame hay, that car door 
fastened securely on the outside, all roused his detec- 
tive instincts. He wanted to get to the bottom of 
the whole affair; then use his knowledge for his own 
promotion. 

He visited John often, making friendly social calls. 


48 

He was preparing his pumping macliinery, getting 
things in order for future operations. He asked a 
few leading questions, hut learned nothing of value. 
But he was neither daunted nor discouraged. He grew 
more cunning and circumspect. He continued and 
lengthened his friendly calls. One day he asked 
John, with a gush of friendly interest, to tell him 
how he came in that cattle car with such a supply of 
food, water and timothy hay. John v/as no fool. 
He was on his guard instantly; so soon do the sons of 
hunger forget their orthodox training and teaching. 
He felt no impulse to tell the truth, the vmole truth 
and nothing hut the truth. He dodged and evaded. 
He assumed forgetfulness with the skill and readiness 
of a sugar trust manager. John pleaded sickness. 
He was too ill to remember such things. He had a 
dim recollection of a person or persons bringing 
things into the car. It might he a dream or it might 
he reality. He certainly had been unconscious, if not 
delirious. The real and the unreal, the true and the 
false, were all mixed up together. Everything seemed 
like the fabric of a dream. He wanted to forget it 
all. It was too frightful and uncanny. 

^‘Did you ride far?’^ asked the agent, with assumed 
indifference. Meanwhile he eyed John critically. 

“Oh, I guess so. Most all night; maybe more; 
maybe less,” responded John, with infantile simpli- 
city — or duplicity. 

“But that new-mown timothy hay,” urged the 
crafty agent; “it was never cut in Kansas. It came 


49 

from farther east. The car came from Chicago. How 
do you account for that?” 

^‘I know nothing about the car, where it came from 
or where it was going. I myself am going to Cali- 
fornia, car or no car,” answered John, stoutly. 

^^Do you know the Unterritied?” questioned the 
agent, taking a new line of operation. 

^‘^Tliink I have heard the name somewhere,” replied 
John, with slow meditation. ^^Who is he? What of 
him? Does he live around here?” 

“^Ho; he don’t live anywhere. He’s a professional 
tramp, if not a train robber. Every railroad man 
knows him, but no one can catch him in any of his 
deviltry. If I could catch him napping it would be 
a big job for me. I can tell you that much right here. 
If I could get down to the bottom of this affair I feel 
sure I could put my hand on the IJnterrified. It is 
like one of his fine jobs.” 

John was now doubly on his guard. The Unterri- 
fied should not come to harm. This point was set- 
tled. John’s memory had a relapse. He forgot with 
the speed of a trust magnate. Of this the agent was 
not aware. He told how he yearned and pined for 
promotion; how he needed a wider field for his as- 
pirations. This mystery might be the key to unlock 
a higher sphere for his latent powers. He urged, 
flattered, coaxed and tried to frighten John into tell- 
ing him all he knew. Failing in this, he told John 
what he knew himself. With Ms sharp eyes on J ohn’s 
face, he told him how he overheard the conductor and 
brakemen of the train that sidetracked his car laugh- 


50 

ing, boasting and crowing over some great, good joke 
they were playing oft on the Unterrified. He had 
given them money, which they would blow in at the 
end of the division. He had sprung something on 
them. Now they would show him a trick worth two 
of his cheap affair. This was said while they were 
pushing the unordered car up to the bumpers. It 
might have had something to do with John and his 
helpless condition. 

John was shocked and horrified. It was by great 
effort that he remained cool and silent. At length 
he said, slowly and without emotion: ‘Tf they pur- 
posely left me shut up there to die alone then they 
certainly are not good men.” 

The temptation to tell the agent the whole story of 
the ten dollars was almost irresistible. Human 
nature has its weak points, which must be fortified 
by the direct teachings of the Nazarene. John tried 
to strengthen himself by repeating to himself verses 
of the sermon on the mount: ^^Eesist not evil,” 
^‘Love your enemies; bless them that curse you and 
despitefully use you,” not omitting the smitten cheek, 
nor ‘The cloak also.” Notwithstanding all this, the 
unseemly thought of revenge would lurk around, un- 
bidden, in his soul. However, he refused to utter 
one revengeful word. He kept his own sorrowful 
secrets. 

The agent was baffled but not wholly deceived. 
John was a novice in the art of equivocation. He 
could control his words, voice and eyes, but not the 
telltale flush that crimsoned his cheeks. The agent 


51 

observed and drew his own conclusions. He returned 
to the case in another way. He told John that he 
saw the Unterrified walk by the station the morning 
after the cattle car was sidetracked. The Unterri- 
fied was alone and seemed sorrowful and altogether 
depressed. He walked very fast, as if in a great hurry. 
Three hours later five tough-looking fellows, tramps 
or train robbers, came slowly along from the east. 
They lounged around for awhile, eating and drink- 
ing. Finally they went on, with no show of haste nor 
purpose. As they looked suspicious he had tele- 
graphed on and along the line to look out for the 
gang. With great self-satisfaction he proclaimed 
that he, James 0. Getthere, had been the sole cause 
of averting a certain case of train robbery, if not train 
wrecking. He merely wanted his well-earned re- 
ward, promotion. 

James 0. Getthere was equal to any and all emer- 
gencies. He had learned by zealous inquiry that the 
six men had left the track the first day; they had not 
been seen since by any trainmen. John made no 
comments nor showed the least interest, save a deep 
flush on his otherwise pale face. He was deeply 
moved by what he heard. 

The agent saw his chance of promotion melting 
away, but he froze it again by cold audacity and gall. 
He wrote an article and gave it to his friend, the 
editor of the Howling Coyote Lyre, as follows: ^^An- 
other gang of train robbers thwarted in their ne- 
farious designs by the vigilance and promptitude of 
the argus-eyed James 0. Getthere, station agent of 


52 

Howling Coyote. The gang were suspected by this 
trusty gentleman, who had them followed and watched 
by the tireless section men on this perilous division. 
The cowardly gang of sneaking miscreants were finally 
frightened off to their mountain fastness by the cour- 
age and indomitable energy of one man, J ames 
0. Getthere. It will be a long time before they 
again visit a section intrusted to the faithful and 
intrepid James 0. Getthere. The great Unterrified 
himself is the supposed leader of the formidable gang, 
as he was seen passing swiftly through Howling 
Coyote, as if rushing on to deeds of robbery and 
bloodshed. But the eagle eye of James 0. Getthere 
discovered, thwarted and averted. Such merit, such 
service never goes unrewarded by a grateful public 
nor by a wise and munificent management.^’ 

Copies containing this self-laudation were marked 
and mailed to all the higher officials of the road. 
When James 0. Getthere was approached on the sub- 
ject he was modest, as becomes true worth and great- 
ness. He finally admitted that he had done his whole 
duty in driving off the train robbers before the con- 
summation of their fell designs. Enough; James 0. 
Getthere was promoted! 


CHAPTEE IV. 


At the end of three weeks John Martindale was 
well. He had, moreover, become a general favorite. 
All Howling Co3^ote was at his feet. He was their 
man. They had saved, rescued and nursed him back 
to life. They all felt a personal interest in him. 

Mrs. Mnrphy was in no hurry to see him depart. 
He made little trouble. Whenever he went on his 
way westward she knew the flood would cease which 
had deluged her shanty with goodies; for her neigh- 
bors, not to be outdone by any charitable daughter of 
Erin, had maintained their self-respect by sending 
her unlimited dainties, ostensibly for John, but in 
reality to round out their own merit and benevolence. 

Howling Coyote was on good terms with itself. It 
reverenced and admired itself. It went so far in its 
sublime generosity as to offer John a place in one of 
the schools, to teach in one of the lower grades. He 
felt the honor, but declined, as he was eager to re- 
sume his westward journey. His feet were healed 
and his shoes had been resoled by the village shoe- 
maker. 

Hor were the King’s Daughters idle. They were 
active and zealous. They do nothing by halves. 
They found a farmer who was moving by wagon to 
Arizona, near Phoenix, where he had a married 
53 


54 

daughter living and prospering. She liked Arizona 
and sent to have them come, as they had lost so much 
in Kansas, by hot winds, drouths, hail, cyclones, 
cloudbursts, floods, prairie flres and hog cholera that 
they were on the verge of bankruptcy. 

The unfortunate farmer, Mr. Darling, had little to 
do to get ready to go on to Arizona. One advantage 
of having nothing is the facility of moving it from 
place to place; no bother to sell, pack or transport. 

The Darling family consisted of Mr. Darling, his 
two sons, George and Frank, and two daughters, Jane 
and Sunflower. The Darling boys, George and Frank, 
came to see John. They offered him a free seat 
in their wagons, together with free ^^gruh’^ and a 
hearty welcome. John was undecided, hut they took 
him up to the sod house to see their father and sis- 
ters. As soon as John saw the younger sister. Sun- 
flower, he accepted the invitation without further 
palaver. 

The mother, Mrs. Darling, was killed in a cyclone 
five years before. Jane took her place when not 
teaching. At such times Sunflower was housekeeper, 
if not cook. The father and children were all pleas- 
ant, intelligent and intensely radical. Mr. Darling 
had been an old Kansas jayhawker. He was moral, 
temperate and without fear. He was as radical in 
religion as in politics^, a good, honest man, who 
believed what he practiced and practiced what he 
believed. 

The brothers, George and Frank, were sons of their 
father, manly, keen-witted young giants, well versed 


55 

in things of which John was ignorant. They 

were elegant dancers, expert marksmen, skilled ath- 
letes, fluent debaters, fearless riders, posted politi- 
cians, radical thinkers and thorough Americans. 

John was a university graduate, delicate almost to 
effeminacy — a handsome dreamer of beautiful 
dreams. Nevertheless, he liked the Darling boys and 
they thought him an interesting curiosity, if not an 
absolute freak. They looked at him in compassion. 
He looked at them in wonder. The sisters adored 
John; he was so unlike their brawny brothers. Jane, 
the teacher, the motherly elder sister, was neither 
youthful nor beautiful. Some might call her an old 
maid, both plain and prudish. Sunflower, the 
younger sister, was a yellow-haired, black-eyed, many- 
dimpled, sylph-like beauty. 

John v/as a man. He looked at Sunflower and 
thought a ride to Arizona with her would not be a 
grievous infliction. She looked at him and was sure 
he would be the one thing to make the journey 
charming and enchanting. 

John was no ladies’ man. He had never before 
cared to look twice at any girl. He did not even like 
to hear girls talk, with their everlasting lisps, smirks, 
simpers and giggles. Their affected airs annoyed 
him. Their studied artiflcial dressing was offensive. 
Their purring, cooing, coquettish ways made him 
angry. It is not necessary to add that John had 
never been in love. The signs are unmistakable. 

At the university John’s clothes had never been 
like those of the other students. He was supersensi- 


56 

tive and felt the affliction of cheap, old garments 
beyond most men. He was doubly conscious of his 
shabby, seedy appearance. Whenever he saw yonng 
ladies look his way he thought them staring at his 
old coat or antiqnated necktie. John was an ill- 
dressed Adonis, conscious of his poor clothes, but 
unconscious of his good looks. John had been called 
a woman-hater, when in truth he hated only himself. 

But Sunflower Darling, bareheaded, in a clean blue 
calico dress, was a new kind of woman. She was 
beautiful, in spite of dress, sunburn and freckles. She 
was natural and unconventional, like a poeks dream 
of womanly companionship. 

For some reason John spent many days at the sod 
house. Mrs. Murphy objected and the King’s Daugh- 
ters wondered. One day he went up to the sod house 
wearing the pants, or divided skirts, given him by the 
King’s Daughters. They would have made a clown 
green vdth envy, they were so grotesque and impos- 
sible. He wore them as a duty, an act of gratitude, 
although his whole aesthetic soul rose up in rebellious 
protest. But virtue has its reward. Sunflower ad- 
mired and approved of those trousers. She com- 
mended their free-handed amplitude and flowing full- 
ness. This pleased John beyond all sense or reason. 
H*enceforth he wore them without further distrust or 
mortiflcation. 

The day of departure came. The two covered 
wagons were loaded. A Jersey cow was tied behind 
one wagon; behind the other wagon were hitched two 
bronchos. The wagons were drawn by mule teams. 


57 

Sunflower and Frank were riding ponies, or bron- 
chos, declaring that no such outfit could do without 
suitable outriders. Mr. Darling invited John to sit 
beside him on the spring seat. George and Jane were 
in the other wagon, George driving and Jane de- 
murely silent. The Darlings had guns and a favorite 
bird-dog. The boys would hunt at times and enjoy 
their rural outing to the uttermost. 

John had never fired a gun, much less owned one. 
Fie wondered how good men could find sport or en- 
joyment in shooting, maiming or killing the dear, 
sw^eet little quails, or the lovely, whizzing, whirring, 
frightened prairie chickens. Two other things 
marked John as no son of the ^Svild and woolly 
west.^^ lie was afraid of dogs and filled with un- 
manly fear when standing in the presence of a wild, 
frantic, plunging, kicking, bucking broncho. This 
last weakness he determined to overcome. He re- 
solved to learn to ride on horseback. Sunflower and 
George both offered to teach him. They assured him 
they could make him a good horseman before they 
reached Phoenix. Even Mr. Darling tried to en- 
courage him by telling him that a few hours a day on 
a horse would make any one a good rider, if they only 
used caution, sense and judgment. This was some- 
what conditional. FTevertheless, he would try, come 
w'hat would. The anticipation of riding with Sun- 
flower and not making a spectacle of himself — this 
indeed was something to desire. 

The teams moved slowly. The outriders were 
merry and overflowing with banter. John thought 


58 

the sun never before so bright, nor the sky so blue, 
the landscape so serene, nor the whole face of nature 
so benign and beautiful. Other men at other times 
and at other scenes have thought the same. Let the 
mystery remain a secret forever. 

About noon they halted beside a creek. They fed 
their horses and ate their lunch. The brothers took 
their guns and dog and went out on the prairie and 
up and around some draws or ravines. They returned 
with well-filled game sacks. Sunfiower would have 
fried quail and prairie chicken for supper. Poor John 
forgot to grieve over the dead quails after learning 
that Sunfiower wanted them to grace the evening 
meal. He sunk even lower in his own estimation by 
wishing that he, too, could do something, even kill 
something, to add to her pleasure. 

During the afternoon John took his first lesson in 
horsemanship. George and Sunfiower were his able 
instructors — past masters in the art of broncho- 
riding and broncho-breaking. 

John rode Sunfiower’s pony, as that was gentle and 
not given to tricks or bucking. John proved an apt 
pupil. He succeeded so well that he and Sunfiower 
rode on together most of the afternoon, until Jane 
beckoned to her sister to come back up to the wagons. 
Then Jane whispered to her that it was not proper to 
ride so long with a strange young man. Sunflower 
laughed good-naturedly, telling Frank to come take 
her horse and ride with John, while she would take 
his place and drive. They changed places and one 
more sacrifice was offered on the altar of propriety. 


59 

At night they stopped at a deserted homestead. 
There was a well of good water, a sod house and a 
number of sheds and a corral. They took possession 
and made things comfortable for themselves and 
their stock. By common consent the work was di- 
vided. Each one knew his part. There was no 
clashing nor bickering. George and Frank cared for 
the horses, Mr. Darling milked the cow and tethered 
her out to grass. Jane prepared the beds, while Sun- 
flower and John prepared the evening meal. 

The whole arrangement was satisfactory. At least 
J ohn and Sunflower thought it well planned and mas- 
terful. They were both good cooks and knew what 
to do and how it was done. John was a little em- 
barrassed, hut that was owing to other causes. He 
looked at Sunflower when he might better be looking 
at the fr3dng quails, hut she held him down to strict 
business by calling his attention to the smoking 
spiders. 

The supper was pronounced fine; hut they were 
hungry, almost ravenous, therefore easily pleased. As 
they were tired, they went to bed early and slept 
soundly till about four o’clock, when George and 
Frank arose, dressed and went out to the horses to 
move them on fresh grass. The others were soon up 
cooking and repacking, so as to start in the cool morn- 
ing. 

Sunflower and John worked well together. They 
were quick to learn the likes and dislikes of each 
other. Jane thought they were too free, if not too 
familiar. They talked without even thinking of such 


60 

a thing as gender. This shocked Jane, who had a 
fad — propriety. Snnflower also had a fad — fun and 
frolic. Jane was always being shocked, while Sun- 
flower was always more or less shocldng. The sisters 
adored each other — ^the prude and the passion flower. 

Sunflower thought John an old friend, if not lover. 
Jane insisted that he was a strange man and therefore 
to he feared and avoided. Jane was immodestly mod- 
est; Sunflower was modest, immodestly. They were 
both good, pure girls, although unhke in their views 
of life and its possibilities and impossibilities. Jane 
never forget her sex. Sunflower never thought of it 
unless her sister made it a point of sage reflection. 


CHAPTEE V. 


The Darlings had been five days on their jonrney. 
J ohn had learned to ride on Sunflower’s pony, hut he 
shrank from riding the other horses. He was agile 
and observant. He mounted gracefully and held the 
bridle without awkwardness. Furthermore, he sat 
up and rode smoothly, like a real cowboy, whose grace 
and elegant pose he never tired of admiring. 

The morning of the sixth day Sunflower said she 
and John would ride on ahead to the Artesian Wells. 
At this Jane was shocked even more than usual. The 
Artesian Wells were at least twenty miles away. Jane 
suggested to George the propriety of him riding on 
with them, as it would look better. “Better to 
whom?” grunted George, scornfully. “Hot to John 
and Sunflower, I’ll bet two cents, and there is no liv- 
ing person on the road to see or report proceedings. 
My sweet sister, there’s not a house this side of Ar- 
tesian Wells.” 

Then that horrid brother walked off whistling, as 
though he had not recklessly ignored a great fraternal 
responsibility. 

Sunflower stood beside the wagon. Jane was up 
on the spring seat, ready to ride whenever the others 
were through discussing and directing. 

Sunflower was soothing and smiling up to Jane in 
61 


62 

her endeavor to reassure her. She made the awful 
breach of propriety of deftly and deliberately unfas- 
tening the band of her outer skirt. It dropped to 
the ground. She gave it a kick, caught it on her toe; 
then catching it in her hands tossed it up to Jane, who 
was shocked, almost paralyzed. 

True, Sunflower was dressed in her denim divided 
skirts, and the outer skirt was worn only as a pro- 
tection while working. Nevertheless, Jane was 
shocked, for John was standing there holding the 
two ponies, waiting for Sunflower to mount. Sun- 
floAver always wore divided skirts, as she rode astride, 
to the infinite scandal of sister Jane, who rode a vestal 
sidesaddle whenever she thought it proper to ride at 
all — at such times as there were no winds to sway 
or lift her long and all-concealing skirts. Poor Jane 
found life a sad trial in many unavoidable ways. To 
her Sunflower was both a comfort and a torment. 
Such sweetness and such imprudence; such kisses and 
such high kicking. Oh, it was terrible! What could 
she do? What could any one do with a girl, almost 
eighteen, who acted more like a hoy than like a prim 
young lady? 

Sunflower sprung on her pony without waiting for 
assistance. She rode circling around the wagons, 
laughing and talking to them all. She did look 
charming in her cheap, home-made riding suit of blue 
denim, divided skirts, Eton jacket, white shirtwaist, 
blue denim necktie and Tam O’Shanter, with white 
goose quills up at one side. In her cheap riding cos- 
tume she looked dainty and beautiful in the eyes of 


63 

John Martindale. He was sure none of the young 
ladies at Ann Arbor were half so adorable. With a 
laugh and a wave of farewell the two rode blithely 
away westward. 

For some reason John could not act at his ease. 
He trembled, blushed and sometimes even grew pale, 
white and silly-looking. He did not talk as freely 
and unembarrassed as usual. Sunflower questioned 
him; asked him what made him shiver, shake and 
tremble so much. Was he sick? He certainly looked 
first red, then white. She rode up beside him and 
took his hand, impulsively, to feel his wrist. His 
hand was cold and trembling. He looked at her in a 
hungry, gushing, idiotic way and answered: don’t 

know what is the matter, myself. Your hand thrills 
me like the touch of a live wire.” 

‘^‘^Oh, fiddlesticks,” sniffed Sunflower and hit her 
pony a slap and dashed on ahead, wondering if all 
men save her father and two big brothers were born 
fools, stark, raving idiots. 

Throughout the long ride she continued to lead. 
They conversed little, as they rode fast, and the way 
was sometimes obscure, hard to find and difficult to 
follow. John rode as one in a dream. He followed 
Sunflower without doubt or questions. All trails and 
points of compass were alike to him on the character- 
less plains. He thought she was leading east, but 
followed her because he trusted her knowledge of the 
country. She could see landmarks where he saw only 
confusion. Without once missing the way, they ar- 
rived at the Wells long before noon. It was the head- 


64 

quarters of an extensive cattle ranch. The men were 
all ont on the range; at least there was no one at the 
ranch shanties nor at the corrals. They dismounted, 
watered their horses and helped themselves to what- 
ever they liked, after the style of the free and easy 
west. 

Sunflower was very talkative, yet made no further 
remarks on John’s nervousness. She went up to her 
pony and patted his neck and putting her arms 
around his neck and leaning her head up against the 
pony, after the manner of women who are fond of 
horses. 

John was dazed. He was astonished and over- 
whelmed by his unusual emotions, standing first on 
one foot, then on the other, smiling, blushing, trem- 
bling and looking at Sunflower, who thought to re- 
assure him by proposing a round of inspection. When 
they came to the great overflowing water tanks she 
bathed her face and hands, taking down her wealth 
of wonderful hair, wetting, combing and rearranging 
it to her liking. John also washed his hands and 
combed his hair. He tried to he social and agree- 
able, hut the effort was too apparent. Yet Sunflower 
was perfectly composed, wholly master of the situa- 
tion, without emotion or passion. She liked John 
when he was not sentimental. At such times she 
called him a fool, within herself, and went on as if she 
did not notice his folly. 

She led the way around the premises. They peered 
into windows, under sheds, around the shanties and 
sod house. Then Sunflower saw a nice little house. 


65 

with a neat little door fastened by a long wooden 
pin, made fast to the door casing by a short rope. 
She ran gayly on before John and drew out the 
wooden pin and swung the door wide open. With a 
hound and plunge a ferocious mastiff sprung out, 
knocking Sunflower down by the force of his great 
body. She gave a wild, despairing shriek and fainted. 

Instinctively John started backward, hut, seeing 
Sunflower on the ground and the dog standing over 
her, he took a step forward. The red-eyed mastiff 
growled at him viciously and showed his terrible teeth 
by way of emphasis. 

The dog acted as if he had not fully made up his 
mind which one to tear, rend and slay first. Some- 
times he would walk a few steps toward white-faced, 
quivering John, taking his watchful eyes off the pros- 
trate, motionless form of Sunflower. At such times 
she would whisper to John frantically: ^^Go! Go! 
Go!’^ Then the dog, hearing her voice, would whirl 
and come back to her and put his nose down to her 
ear, growling eloquently, as much as to say: ‘^Aly lady, 
you keep quiet till I fix that fellow. Then I will at- 
tend to your case.” 

She understood dogs as well as horses. Instinct- 
ively she had fallen with her face near the ground 
and partially guarded by her right arm. She closed 
her eyes, so as not to look at the frightful brute, and 
also to deceive him. Instinct and reason aided her. 

Furthermore, she was aware that the dog was mere- 
ly watching her and not intending to rend her limb 
from limb and crunch the hones. Her safety was to. 


GG 

wait events quietly. Poor, white-faced John was 
slowly gliding backward. Pie was backing on toward 
the corner of the house. P'he dog seemed to guess his 
intention, for he ran almost up to him, growling sav- 
agely. It was then Sunflower shrieked out wildly: 
‘^jRun! Kun for the cowboys to come and call off the 
dog.^^ At the sound of her voice the dog whirled and 
came hack to her, as she meant he should. This was 
John’s opportunity. He vanished around the house 
corner. The dog looked, but not seeing him re- 
mained beside Sunflower. 

John mounted and rode furiously away to find some 
one to call off the dog. In his terror and impotent 
agony he was ashamed of himself and loathed the 
part he felt forced to play. He was mad with hor- 
ror and self-detestation; so weak, so helpless, so un- 
manly, so unlike the model hero who valiantly slays 
the ferocious beast and triumphantly rescues the im- 
periled maiden. Alas for knightly prowess! The 
imperiled maiden had planned and secured his safety. 
Oh, it was bitter; it was mortifying; it was degrada- 
tion. J ohn was weeping, whether for himself or for 
Sunflower remains a sad secret. Why, oh, why could 
not his hold, strong soul lead up his weak, shivering 
body to grapple, barehanded, with that enraged 
mastiff? 

He thought of George Darling, the giant; how he 
could have killed the dog with a kick, or torn him 
asunder, as Samson did the lion. Then, as if to 
multiply his tortures, he thought of Sunflower her- 
self. He fancied he saw the brute chewing and 


C7 

tearing her at his leisure, her blood dripping from his 
jaws and her yellow hair dangling and clinging to his 
fangs. In his agony he shrieked aloud and the pony 
flew faster. 

Why was he born with a terror, a horror for dogs? 
Oh, the shame, the madness, the self-humiliation and 
loathing! What were Greek tragedy, or Roman his- 
tory, or the mathematics of Euclid, or the learning of 
Aristotle compared to the athletic prowess of George 
Darling? Bare-handed he would have slain that mas- 
tiff. John was working himself up to a fine frenzy. 
In fact, he was growing mad, demented, delirious. 
The shock had been too great and too sudden. 

How or where he rode he knew not till he heard 
the pony’s labored breathings. Then he held up and 
slackened his speed. He saw a cowboy coming saun- 
tering slowly toward him, his horse almost walking. 
John waved, shouted, yelled and shrieked wildly. The 
cowboy seemed in no hurry to meet a madman, riding 
as though chased b}^ a thousand Apaches. Never- 
theless John continued to wave, yell and shout. The 
cowboy increased his speed somewhat, yet seemed in 
no hurry to meet a howling lunatic, as John appeared 
to him; for no man but a fool or a madman would ride 
like that out on the open range. Breathless, hatless, 
wild-eyed and speechless, John met the cool son of 
the plains. Then, with a sob and a hysterical laugh, 
he pointed toward the Artesian Weils and articulated 
one word: ‘^Dog!” 

The cowboy, who was the manager, was not slow 
to guess the trouble, as that day the dog had been left 


68 

unchained. He ejaculated one hot word, and it was 
not hades, either; then tossed up his slackened rein, 
with a yell and whoop, driving his cruel spurs deep 
in the flanks of his startled pony. Like a frightened 
deer it flew on over the wide rolling range, till a large 
sandhill hid him from view. 

John jerked his pony around and tried to follow 
close in his rear, but the pony seemed to reel and stag- 
ger as he started back toward the Wells. Notwith- 
standing the condition of the pony, J ohn urged it on 
with reckless ardor. As he neared the Wells there 
were some barren sandhills. On over these he urged 
the tired broncho. On top of the highest he caught 
a view of the ranch buildings. This added to his ex- 
citement. He tried to imitate the yell aad whoop of 
the cowboy as he was going down the sandhill. The 
pony plunged forward, his foot sunk in a hole; he fell. 
John struck the ground and lay senseless. When 
John came to the pony was lying near him, with its 
head doubled back under its body — dead. Its neck 
was broken. This new calamity was like the last 
straw on the cameFs back. He put his hand to his 
aching head. It was wet with his own blood. 

He tried to rise, but his head was dizzy. He reeled 
and fell down in whirling blackness. The next he 
heard or knew w-as the sound of a bell and a long, 
reverberating shout. The cowboy was calling, either 
for him or for other help. By a frantic effort he 
staggered to his feet, felt the dead pony, then, slowly 
taking off the. bridle and saddle, he started toward 
the Wells, carrying them along in bewilderment. 


69 

As he neared the ranch buildings he dropped the 
bridle and saddle and hurried on to meet the grim 
and silent cowboy. 

^AVhere is Sunflower?’^ gasped John wildly. 

^‘1 don^t know,” he answered briefly. 

^^Did the dog kill her?” whispered the poet sadly, 
he did not hurt her. Of this I am certain,” 
replied the manager, with great positiveness. 

^^But where is she?” 

^‘That is more than I know. When I came here she 
was not here and everything was quiet and just as I 
left it; the dog fastened up in his kennel, as though 
no one had been here to let him out. Neither would 
I believe he had been out if I did not see his tracks 
in the sand, as well as the print of a woman^s form 
where she fell in front of the kennel. That dog is a 
fierce, cruel brute. He has killed two men who came 
here to rustle. No one can manage him but myself. 
Now he has been out; that much is settled. That 
is what troubles me. The question is who put him 
back in his house? Who fastened the door? The 
girl walked out to her horse, pulled up the tethering 
pin and rode away, doubtless in search of you.” 

donT believe one word you say,” hissed John, 
with reckless abandon. ^“^You have secreted her body, 
or, what is worse, carried her off alive and hid her in 
some cave or dugout. My horse is dead, so I canT 
follow her nor find you.” 

am right here, already found,” said the cowboy, 
meekly for one of his build and black, flashing eyes. 

don’t blame you, a tenderfoot, for believing al- 


70 

most anything, for I swear I never was so puzzled in 
all my life. He has been out and is now fastened up. 
Not one of our men has been here. Of this I am cer- 
tain. Another thing, the woman walked to her 
horse alone and rode away alone.” 

wish I could think so,” murmured the frenzied 
poet, doubtingly, as he looked in the face of the man- 
ager intently, as if searching there to find some clew 
or key to the mystery. 

At length the stalwart son of the plains threw hack 
his head almost haughtily and addressed John calmly, 
without bitterness or resentment. There was even a 
note of sorrow in the clear, cool words. 

‘^Look here, hoy, I know the Darlings. I am ex- 
pecting them here about this time. I had a letter 
from George, saying they were going to drive through 
to x^rizona and would stop here with me for a few 
days. Mr. Darling and mv father were old friends 
and comrades. They were in the First Kansas — good 
old jay hawkers together. I know Sunfiower. She is 
no fool. She is all right. Trust her for that. I 
have property hack near Howling Coyote. When I 
was hack there last winter I was soft enough myself 
to try and make love to Sunfiower; hut I was not her 
style. I was too much like her own brawny brothers. 
Now, a little baby-faced meaching skinny-rivet, like 
you, might strike her fancy. You seem dead gone on 
her. Now, if she can fancy such an addle-brained, 
tallow-faced, chicken-hearted dude that is her busi- 
ness, not mine. One thing is sure, I am out of the 
race. Still I bear her no grudge or ill-will. It was 


71 

not lier fault that I did not fill the bill. The Darlings 
are poor; I am not. That I am rich made no differ- 
ence with Sunflower. She is a good girl — a trump 
card; no mistake; nothing little or mean about her. 
She wanted me to marry Jane, but there is too much 
prudery and propriety there for my stomach. She did 
not suit me any more than I suited Sunflower. It was 
no go. Still, I think Jane was like Barkis, but I 
wasn’t. 

“No, sir; I would no more harm a hair of Sun- 
flower Darling^s yellow curls than I would harm my 
mother’s gray locks. You are on the wrong trail 
here. It w'ould please me more to be of service to 
her than I would care to have everybody know.”" 

“You talk well,” retorted John sullenty, “but 
wdiere is the girl ? I think her body is shut up in the 
kennel w'ith that bulldog. There! Hark! Hear him 
craunch. He is gnawing bones.” 

“Quite likely,” remarked the manager, unmoved. 
“I gave him a cow’s head since I came hack. Now 
I will call him out and you can look in the kennel for 
yourself.” 

“Yes; you want the dog to kill me, too,” said John, 
shrinking backward in terror. 

“Oh, you miserable little sand-flea, but you do carry 
your imagination along with you,” laughed the son of 
the ja3diawker, in derision. He opened the kennel 
door. The mastiff came out, fawning, whining and 
licking the hand of his master, who told John to look 
in and inspect the inside of the dog’s house. He looked 
in with great shyness and^circumspection. He saw a 


72 

cov/’s head; nothing more. He turned away with an 
air of disappointment, but he avoided the place where 
the cowboy was playing with the terrible dog. 

^‘'Now are you satisfied?” asked the robust ranch- 
man, coldly. 

‘^Ho; I am not satisfied,” declared John, stubborn- 
ly. ^^She may be gagged and concealed in the house, 
down cellar or up in the loft, or in some underground 
passage. I have read of such things.” 

^^Oh, you little pismire; your imagination is getting 
away with whatever sense you may have had. A 
fellow would have a poor show kidnaping Sunflower 
with George and Frank hot on the trail. Her horse 
is not here. That would not be so easy to gag and 
hide.” 

am not worrying about her horse,” said the fren- 
zied poet, bitterly. ‘T want to find Sunflower.” 

^AVell, if you are not skittish, come on and look 
through the house.” They went through the shanties 
and sod house. There was neither, loft, cellar nor 
secret passage. The earth was solid and gave no 
sounds of hollowness. 

John was perplexed, but not convinced. His head 
was aching and he felt dizzy, if not dazed. He was 
asking himself: What did it all mean? WTiere was 
Sunflower? Was the impossible possible? Was she 
really safe and unharmed? What had he better do? 

With moist eyes, quivering lips and a blood-stained 
face, he asked the ranchman, imploringly, to tell him 
what he had better do. It did not take the prompt, 
business-like Kansan long to give his advice. 


73 

bathe your head and face, eat and drink a cup 
of coffee, which I have ready on the table. Then put 
your saddle and bridle on one of my ponies and ride 
back to the teams. Tell George and Frank to ride on 
with you to hunt up Sunflower; that is, if she is not 
there with them already.’^ 

John obeyed willingly. The horse was a fleet, 
nervy broncho and soon ready for the ride. 

As J ohn mounted and was preparing to go 'the cow- 
boy handed him a canteen fdled with water, some 
bread and meat wrapped in a napkin, and a box of 
matches, saying, half-scornfully, that no tenderfoot 
should ride out alone on the plains without a canteen 
and a day’s rations. 

J ohn hung the canteen band over his shoulder, put 
the food in his pockets, but handed back the box of 
matches, sajung that he did not smoke and had no 
use for matches. But the plainsman refused to take 
them back, telling John to keep them, as he might 
want them to start a fire to cook rattlesnakes; that 
matches were a good thing in emergencies. John put 
them in his pocket and rode fleetly off westward. 

^^Where are you going, you son of a gun?” shouted 
the cowboy, wrathfully. 

^To meet Mr. Darling,” answered J ohn, with invita- 
tion. 

^AVell, if that is the case you better turn about 
and ride east. You are riding westward. You better 
ride back east over the road you traveled this morning. 
It will save you a few years’ time.” 

John dropped his head in confusion, saying 


74 

humbly: “I guess I am turned around. My head 
aches and throbs terribly. Perhaps my fall made it 
worse. Good-by. Thank you for your kindness. If 
I have said anything unkind forgive me. I am so 
troubled and worried 1 am not myself to-day. It is as 
you say — my imagination runs away with my judg- 
ment.’’ 

‘^All right. Go ahead, or the Darlings will be here 
before you start,” called out the ranchman, in mild 
impatience. 

J ohn galloped off toward the east with renewed con- 
fidence, while the stalwart Kansan looked after him 
with a sneering frown. Soon he gave a loud growl 
of disgust as he saw John veering around to the 
westward, still riding at a rapid pace. 

Having killed one horse, John rode with more cau- 
tion, if not wisdom. He avoided many suspicious- 
looking uplands and deserted prairie "dog villages, 
often looking earthward, as if following some special 
trail or pathway. To him the unfenced range was 
‘Svithout form and void.” To his untrained eye there 
w^ere no landmarks nor means of telling nor recogniz- 
ing one locality from another. It was sameness and 
universal chaos, a wilderness of anarchy and a desert 
of labyrinths. 

He was riding faster than he knew. The broncho 
he was riding was the fleetest on the ranch and the 
easiest riding. He dashed on westward without halt 
or hesitation, just as Sunflower rode that morning. 
She was a child of the plains, vigilant, observing and 
rigorously exact. To her the plains had character 


75 

and individual points — a trail as easy to follow as a 
beaten roadway. She was always trying to teach him 
the art, craft and wisdom of the American Bedouin. 
Now he was left to himself he had cause to regret 
that his whole attention had been centered on the 
teacher and not on her instructions. 

She always rode where she liked, without regard to 
road, trail or previous pathway. He was doing the 
same, with this^ difference: She had some visible point 
in view, of which she never lost sight; he rode wild, 
with nothing in view but to dash on and on, over 
grassy plains and rolling, barren sandhills. 

At length he began to wonder why he did not meet 
the teams. They certainly must be driving slower 
than usual. 

He was riding fast and far, yet no sign of road, 
wagons or men. He thought it indeed strange. Not- 
withstanding, he again tossed up his hands, yelled 
and whooped and went flying away to the southwest. 
After riding about thirty miles the whole appearance 
of the country changed. John was certain he was in 
a strange and desolate locality, without herds, trees or 
cattle trails. Still he rode on fleet and furious, think- 
ing every moment he would meet the teams. 

Then a terrible thought took possession of his ex- 
cited brain. He had been told the wrong trail, the 
wrong direction, by the wicked and revengeful rival. 

John no longer censured, blamed or arraigned him- 
self. The burden of fault and folly was transferred 
to the broad shoulders of the upright and honorable 
Kansan. John felt himself wronged, deceived, basely 


76 

decoyed and overreached. These thoughts were like 
madness. His imagination twisted and distorted 
every word and action of the friendly ranchman. Sus- 
picion took full possession of his poetic soul. 

He was roused. He determined to retrace his steps 
and thwart the foul designs of the cunning villain. 
He would rescue Sunflower. His imagination was 
full of old romantic fancies. He could almost hear 
her shriek and call for help. He fancied her in con- 
ditions and situations too terrible for words. 

He checked his onward career, turned his horse 
about to retrace his steps. The wind had been blow- 
ing for more than an hour. The sand was driven 
around in dust clouds. He could not find his own 
trail. Soon he became aware that he was lost, hope- 
lessly lost; lost on the arid plains, without compass, 
gun or provisions. 

In his fright and bewilderment everything was dis- 
torted and exaggerated. The very sky, earth and sun 
seemed strange and unusual. The red sun was flam- 
ing and glaring in the east; the sky, the Armament, 
seemed uplifted, receding and far, far away, without 
fleck or cloud, while the earth was drifting sands, 
sandhills and sand valleys. 

Terror and desolation encompassed him. He 
thought he was growing demented, or was it some 
optical illusion? He put his hand to his head, as if 
to make sure he was awake and not dreaming some 
dismal, distracting dream. 

Alas, he was awake and the barren, desolate land- 
scape was real; the condition, the peril, an awful real- 


77 

ity. He was cold and trembling in the glowing snn 
and scorching sands. Dismay and a vivid fancy pic- 
tured the future with scenes of death and despair, 
thirst and starvation, wolves, buzzards and bleaching 
bones. 

He led his reeking pony up on the highest sandhill ' 
and stood long, gazing around in dazed, hopeless be- 
wilderment. The labored breathing of the broncho 
told of his furious pace. As J ohn stood there beside 
the foam-flecked animal, holding the reins on his arm, 
he wondered why the manager had given him so val- 
uable a horse to ride off into the trackless wilderness, 
to perish miserably. 

He found himself thinking more of his own fate 
and less of the possible fate of Sunflower. A great 
and present calamity confronted him. Sunflower 
and her mysterious disappearance seemed far away, 
things of the past. Self-preservation, personal peril 
and impending doom were present, clamorous and all- 
absorbing. S^unflower — could anything drive her 
image and well-being, her danger and possible fate, 
from his thoughts? Let those answer who know the 
limits of human nature. 

The broncho, after resting awhile, grew uneasy, as 
though eager to be going, eager to leave the land of 
thirst and starvation and reach the regions of grass 
and water. Moreover the wind was going down, the 
sand and dust settling. The air grew clear and dis- 
tant objects became visible. Far, far to the south- 
west a long, faint line of timber was visible. Timber 
meant grass an'd water, for Sunflower had told him, in 


78 

her lessons on plainscraft, that timber and water and 
grass were found together. 

However, one thing John had not taken into ac- 
count — the dry transparency of the atmosphere. The 
cloudless, vaporless air rendered objects at a great dis- 
tance visible. To John’s unaccustomed eye the tim- 
ber appeared to he five or six miles away. It was in 
reality twenty miles off. John mounted and rode 
recklessly onward. He hoped to find people living 
near the timber. From them he could learn the way 
back to the Artesian Wells. 

It was after sundown when he approached the long, 
continuous belt of timber. He was disappointed. He 
had expected to find herds and the habitations of men. 
Nothing of the kind was in sight. Sunflower had 
told him that timber and the frontiersman were found 
together. She had misled him and he had been de- 
ceived by her words. He found himself blaming her 
for his disappointment, if not all his present trouble. 
J ohn was a man and a lineal son of our first father — 
Adam. Why should he continue to blame himself 
when there were others whom he could burden with 
liis faults and failures? Adam established the prece- 
dent, which no son of his has ever felt hound to 
ignore. 

John rode slowly along the edge of the timber, look- 
ing for a log house, shanty or sod house. He found 
nothing hut primeval solitude and utter desolation. 

The intelligent horse of the plains scented water 
and grew impatient as John rode along slowly in 
search of signs of habitation. This irritated the 


79 

thirsty broncho, which gave a few mad, frantic leaps, 
then stiffened his legs, dropped his head, humped up 
his hack and came down stiff and standing. 

John was thrown forcibly to the ground. He was 
stunned by the fall. When he came to he tried to 
rise, but felt a sharp pain in his right knee. At first 
he thought his leg broken, but after repeated efforts 
he found he could stand and walk a few steps, with 
much pain and difficulty. 

He was anxious to secure the bucking broncho be- 
fore he took it into his head to make a bold dash for 
freedom. Alas! he saw it cantering off, with bridle 
flying, over the sandhills, presumably toward the Ar- 
tesian Wells. He never saw that broncho again. 

Bruised, bleeding, lost, hungry, lame and sur- 
rounded by trackless plains of drifting sands — all this 
was bad enough, but to be deserted by a treacherous, 
bucking broncho was indeed the very dregs of human 
bitterness. 

John staggered toward a friendly tree and dropped 
down in the attitude of prayer. The stars came out 
and the new moon appeared. Still J ohn remained on 
his knees, motionless, whether weeping or praying re- 
mains unknown. This much is known — when he 
arose to his feet he had the appearance of decided self- 
control, if not of absolute resignation. 

In the faint moonlight he saw some dried grass. 
He gathered together a large pile, which he carried 
in among the trees. He carried the dry grass and 
threw it down between the great surface roots of a 
large tree. Here he made himself a bed for the night. 


80 

After he had time for calm, manly reflection he 
worried less and less about Sunflower Darling. He 
thought her a girl of wit and infinite resources. She 
could take care of herself in any emergency. Comfort- 
ing thought; pleasant assurance; superior assumption; 
knightly sanctuary. 

The more he thought of his own condition and ex- 
ploits the higher rose his estimate of the skill, sense 
and ability of Sunflower. If she were only there with 
him she would find some way out of all this trouble. 
She would lead him hack to safety. 

But his head ached and his knee was painful. These 
minor discomforts attracted and diverted his atten- 
tion. He was also very thirsty and faint from long 
fasting, as he had eaten little during the day. He 
turned over on his side to find a more comfortable 
position. Something large and hard annoyed him. 
He put his hand down to remove the object. It was 
the canteen. He drank and took from his pocket 
some bread and meat. He had forgotten them. How 
he felt grateful to the giver, even though he still dis- 
trusted him. 

The wind was blowing; the timber creaked and 
moaned. The distant coyote howled to his far-off 
neighbor. John was excited and overwrought. He 
closed his eyes. A vision was ever present — that red- 
eyed, terrible-mouthed bulldog, standing growling 
and glaring over the prostrate form of Sunflower 
Darling. He could think, but not sleep. 


CHAPTER VI. 


Next morning, long before daylight, John was 
startled by a sound in the tree above his head, like the 
familiar gobble of a turkey. He looked upward, but 
saw nothing save the dark, dense foliage of the tree- 
tops. At the first bright gleam of dawn he was again 
amazed and panic-stricken by hearing terrific whiz- 
zing, whirring and flopping of dark objects, projected 
wildly down through the air from over his head. He 
questioned himself; what did it all mean? Was he 
growing demented? Was his brain affected by his 
falls or were the woods bewitched? His overstrained 
nerves exaggerated and intensified every sound and 
sensation. His judgment was not reliable. Of this 
he was somewhat aware. Too often had he been de- 
ceived by imagination not to question and doubt for- 
ever his own reasoning. To him the flight of a jack- 
rabbit was like a stampeding herd of cattle, the howl 
of a lonely coyote like the wails from an orthodox 
hades. John w^as quivering and great drops of cold 
sweat told of his mental anguish. Again and again 
that whizzing, whirring, dropping sound, followed by 
an unmistakable gobble. Could it be that people were 
living near? Why did the welcome sound so agitate 
and affright him? He could not have told himself 
the cause of his alarm. 


81 


82 

At length kindly daylight came and dispelled the 
phantoms conjured up by his excited, treacherous 
imagination. He had spent the night under a tower- 
ing cottonwood tree, chosen by the wild turkey gob- 
blers as their roost. He looked around under the 
tree and the whole mystery was solved. The unseen 
terrors of darkness departed. The light of day re- 
moved most of his torments. The things which he 
saw were bright, cheerful and encouraging, while the 
things pictured out by imagination had been dia- 
bolical. True, his head was throbbing and his eyes 
inflamed and almost swollen closed. There was also 
a deep, bleeding gash in his scalp and his knee was 
stiff, purple and very painful. 

Inasmuch as he was in no immediate peril, he 
quietly made an inventory of his possessions and re- 
sources. He emptied his pockets. He found a lead 
pencil, jackknife, small tablet, box of matches, some 
strings, a handkerchief, pocketbook, no money, three 
postage stamps, a toothbrush, pocket mirror, manicure 
set, his graduating papers and the letter to Lawyer 
Rush, together with two sandwiches and the canteen 
partly filled with water. 

He ate a sandwich, drank a little water, then tore 
out some leaves from his tablet, wrote on them his 
name, condition, date and probable location. These 
notices he intended to fasten on the bark of trees 
with sharp little sticks, in many conspicuous places. 
He expected searchers would be out looking for him — • 
fifty full miles from the Artesian Wells. But poor 


83 

John was ignorant on this point, as well as on some 
others. 

Having arranged his affairs, he hunted around and 
found a long, stout stick, which he used for a staff. 
He limped around, posting his little notices. After- 
ward he went in search of water, going into the tim- 
ber, where the underbrush was dense and the trees 
of large size, thinking there must be water near by to 
stimulate such unusual growth. He reasoned well, 
but nature is not always logical. There was no vis- 
ible moisture. The expected spring was dry and the 
hoped-for river was not found. Nevertheless he con- 
tinued to limp onward to learn the nature, extent and 
resources of his enforced quarters. He must find 
food and water, for his lameness held him a 
prisoner within the confines of the timber. Lame 
and without compass, he might travel long in the hot 
sun and scorching sands without finding the habita- 
tion of men. The timber was more friendly and held 
greater possibilities than the barren sand drifts. 

He meant to remain in and around the timber until 
the Darlings or the cowboys came to his rescue, which 
he felt sure they would accomplish. In the meantime 
he would not be idle, but show those big fellows that 
he was not quite such a weak, helpless creature as 
they in their strength and brawn inferred. He was 
roused to greater enterprise and deeds of daring, 
thinking thereby he might regain Sunflower’s favor 
and approval. He had succeeded in convincing him- 
self that she was somewhere safe and looking for him. 

The novelty of the situation, the romantic scenery. 


84 

pleased his poetic perceptions. From the gloom of 
dismal darkness he had come out into the brilliant, 
realistic light of day. He was no longer tormented 
by imps and specters of darkness. The glorious light 
of day had driven them off with the shades and goblins 
of night-time. 

John felt a thrill of delight as he wandered on 
through the cool, shady woods. Truly there was 
plenty of wood and he had matches. These were im- 
portant items, hut not the great essentials — food and 
water. It was at this time that John recalled the re- 
mark of the cowboy — matches to make ^^fire to broil 
rattlesnakes.” John shuddered with disgust at the 
mocking insinuation. Eattlesnakes indeed! He 
could and would find something better. Nevertheless 
the thrust struck home and left a sting, a pang, like 
blood-poisoning. 

With the energy of desperation he limped forward, 
expecting every moment to come to the hanks of some 
fiowing stream. He soon found the hanks and the 
river’s bed, hut for some occult reason the river was 
not at home. It had left its comfortable bed and 
hoard, like some truant wives, whom their loving 
spouses advertise by way of marital insult. 

At all events the river was not visible — flowing un- 
derground some might believe and prove. But to 
John’s eyes it was simply dried up, evaporated and 
floated away in vapory clouds; taken a summer outing; 
gone east to visit the Father of Waters. It would re- 
turn when the rains came. 

John clambered and stumbled down the steep 


85 

banks into something like an arroyo. It was wide 
and covered with rocks, pebbles, coarse gravel, sand 
and bowlders of many kinds and shades of coloring. 
He wanted to learn which way was iip and which way 
down stream. He knew that he himself was turned 
completely around, as the sun that morning seemed 
to rise in the west. By long search and close observa^ 
tion he found a fallen tree, against which was lodged 
some driftwood and dried grasses. These told turn 
positively which way the current had carried them. 
Thus he learned which way to go in search of the 
source of the absent river. He was certain and 
walked on without further hesitation. 

Sometimes the banks would widen out, like the 
banks of some dried-up lake. Again they would ap- 
proach and come near together, like some draw, or 
dried-up canyon. 

Moreover, the spirit of discovery and exploration 
was upon this limping poet and he pressed on, in spite 
of hunger, thirst and lameness. Once he found a 
place where water was slowly oozing and trickling 
from the side of the high rocky walls, which had been 
eroded by the action of water. John went up to the 
damp, mossy wall. He could reach the place where a 
small stream was running and spreading out over the 
damp walls. He poked and probed around, collecting 
and confining the outfiow. With some skill and 
labor he confined the water till it fiowed down a clear, 
cool stream, wide as his hand. He was delighted. 
He drank, filled his canteen, washed his face and 
hands, making his toilet and bathing his swollen knee. 


S6 

After resting and more drinking lie resumed liis re- 
search. He frequently came to moist places, where 
rank weeds and wild plums and berries were growing. 
Sometimes there were wonderful grapevines, reaching 
up and out, twining around trees and overspreading 
the tops with quantities of partially ripened grapes, 
hanging down in festoons. 

As he advanced the banks grew steeper and higher 
and nearer together, like twin cliffs, ledges and sheer 
precipices of sandstone or conglomerate. He walked 
on up into the narrow canyon. In places the ground 
was damp and little stream-like outlines of moisture 
gave indications of water, if not of springs. With his 
staff he dug a shallow hole in the line of moisture; it 
filled with water. 

As he advanced the indications increased. The line 
of moisture became a visible stream of moving liquid 
that a fly might have waded through. It was so shal- 
low that the pebbles were dry on top. Nevertheless 
it was surface water and John was wild with delight. 
He continued to advance till he came to a large, clear 
pool of cool spring water, bubbling up from the pebbly 
bottom. John was satisfied with his discovery. It 
was good luck enough for one day. He resolved to 
remain near this pool till the coming of the rescuers. 
He drank. The water was fresh and without the taste 
of sulphur or alkali. He stripped and bathed in the 
pool. He shook and dusted his clothes and felt 
refreshed and civilized. 

The possibilities of the cliffs were many and mar- 
velous. He would seek out some cavity and make 


87 

himself a sleeping place, like a cliff-dweller. He con- 
templated and investigated; he compared and exam- 
ined. At length he thought the south wall best suited 
to his taste and use. It was perfect in its natural 
cavities, terraces, corridors and long, eroded balconies. 
Yerily there was a hint of design in the long terrace, 
with overhanging roof of upright wall. 

That nature had prepared a place so well suited to 
his wants was indeed fortunate. He would not have 
been greatly astonished had some ancient cliff-dweller 
come out from some of the tunnel-like openings and 
alcoves and hade him welcome. Here he would estab- 
lish his headquarters and as a beginning he com- 
menced to collect driftwood and dry branches and 
barks and toss them up on the terrace, which was fully 
ten feet above the bed of the dry river. 

Wood, water, shelter, shade and scenery, hut noth- 
ing to eat. The accessories, but not the principal. 
In this emergency how his perplexed soul did covet a 
gun and the skill to use it. 

What were Greek and Latin flummery to the solid, 
bed-rock essentials of self-subsistence? Ah! Yes; 
John had acquired at school one proficiency, which 
would now become available. He was an expert base- 
ball pitcher. 

With boundless satisfaction he looked upon the 
possibilities of his new abode. Something like a sense 
of ownership gladdened his heart. He felt a thrill of 
home and pride of possession. Hone hut the home- 
less, disinherited poor can understand this joy to its 


88 

uttermost. A home for the homeless is like respect 
to the outcast;, fallen. It is to live indeed. 

The terraced wall, with high, overhanging roof, the 
pebbly pool, bubbling and overflowing its sparkling 
waters, making a trail of moisture far down the gravel- 
covered canyon, while up beyond the pool a few rods 
the walls made a bend, like the windings of a brook. 
Here was an opening in the south wall, or high, steep 
hank, as though made by the hand of man. It was 
wide, smooth and sloping gradually down to the dry 
bed of the truant river. It was an old buffalo run. 
The buffalo were gone, but the trail remained, a 
monument and a memorial, while bones, skulls and 
horns of buffaloes told of crowdings and catastrophe; 
a poet’s paradise — bones and skulls, into which his 
fancy breathed life and legends of romance. 

The long-roofed terrace, with its alcoves and re- 
cesses, filled John with wonder. It was so like a work 
of art. The terrace ended before reaching the old 
buffalo run, where the upright walls were without 
large holes or openings. This made the terrace, with 
its overhanging roof, more like a balcony than a 
washed-out indentation. 

J ohn looked longingly up toward that natural roof 
and floor, but how was he, a lame man, to reach that 
cliff house? It puzzled him that nature should make 
a dwelling so suitable and convenient. The whole 
looked like the work of man, as if fashioned by de- 
sign. John was staggered. 

Moreover, the north cliff, or side wall, was not with- 
out its strange formation. The upright face of the 


89 

cliff-like bank was smooth and without many seams or 
markings. There was one deep opening, like the 
month of a tunnel. It was fully twelve feet above 
the level of the ground below. It was like an open 
entrance, or arched doorway. When the sun shone 
in upon it then it seemed the outer opening of a deep, 
dark tunnel. There were a few large stones lying 
near the opening, but that was all that was revealed. 
John was sorry it was inaccessible, as he longed to 
explore its mysterious depths. 

But the south terrace — he was sure that could be 
reached lower down, where it grew narrower and 
finally ended. He retraced his steps, going down 
about twenty rods, where the terrace ended by a large 
pile of rocks and stone. John rearranged and re- 
placed the rocks, making stepping stones, if not a 
partial stairway. It was high enough so he could 
clamber up without much trouble. He reached the 
terrace and walked back on it as far as the upper edge 
of the pool, where the terrace ended. Here, in a small 
alcove, he located his sleeping apartment. _ He 
brushed out the alcove, replaced the stone, as if to 
make a screening wall. This completed the bedroom. 
He would find dry grass for his bed and toss the bun- 
dle up on the terrace. 

As he was making his way back down from the ter- 
race he noticed, near the lower end, a pile of stone 
that appeared to be put up with some kind of mortar. 
He examined it closely. It was a primitive stone 
oven, or stone stove and oven combined. He won- 
dered at the art and ingenuity of the dead and de- 


90 

parted aborigines. They and the buffalo were gone, 
but the run and the oven remained, a relic and a re- 
proach. John was an enthusiast and an idealist, a 
visionary poet and not a practical crusher of nations 
and empires for selfish greed and gain. He held many 
opinions not shared or favored by the ruling majority 
of his countr3^men. 

Alas; an oven but nothing to put in one! He 
thought of the matches and the ^Rattlesnakes’’ and 
shuddered. This thought was like cold water thrown 
on his glowing imagination. It cooled his enthusi- 
asm. He started and gasped for breath. 

He was growing hungry, for he had walked far and 
it was afternoon. His hand went down to his pocket 
in quest of the remaining bread and meat. He took it 
out, looked at it with hungry eyes, but put it back in 
his pocket, knowing from frequent past tilts with 
hunger that starvation must be met with prudence and 
self-denial. He was nerving himself for the onslaught. 

Descending from the terrace by the stone steps, he 
gathered bundles of fine, dry grass and tied them 
around with long grasses. He hurled the bundles up 
near his sleeping alcove, ready to spread out for his 
bed. This done he drank, filled his canteen and 
walked off up the old buffalo run to look around and 
see what was beyond. He was careful to mark his 
way by bending and breaking twigs. He was grow- 
ing cautious, if not altogether observing. 

After passing through the timber he found the land 
rolling, barren and of whitish appearance, like lime 
or soda. He tasted the white stuff, expecting to find 


91 

it alkali, but it was salt. He collected some in liis 
handkerchief and went on to inspect what looked like 
a dry lake or extensive reservoir. It was an old buf- 
falo wallow. The bottom was still moist, for the 
ground was springy. Having retraced his way with- 
out difficulty he returned to the pool, bathed his 
swollen knee, which he wrapped in some large green 
leaves, held in place by soft green grass. He made his 
way back up on the terrace. He shook out his grass, 
making up his bed to his liking. Being tired, sleepy 
and hungry, he lay down to rest, if not to sleep, 
though it was little after four o’clock by the sun. 

The bed was nice and soft. He had slept -soundly 
on many worse. But he could not sleep. He was too 
ravenously hungry. Besides his mind was too active 
planning some means of subsistence, while his many 
trials, sorrows and blunders were clamoring for re- 
view. At length he had a happy inspiration — that 
his good luck in finding water and shelter should be 
celebrated in some way. He resolved to celebrate 
the happy event by eating his last remaining food, 
which he did, deliberately and thankfully. 

He went back to bed and was soon sleeping soundly. 
The night before he had not slept. Now he was mak- 
ing up lost time. For more than two hours he slept 
a heavy ,dreamless sleep. Then he awoke startled 
and trembling. 

It was still daylight — not more than half -past six 
o’clock, yet the whole air in the canyon was vibrating, 
throbbing, palpitating and quivering. Dark shadows 
of hideous, vampire-like objects darted and shot across 


92 

tlie siin-liglited walls. Strange and unknown sounds 
smote his affrighted ears. Was the canyon haunted 
or the resort of prehistoric monsters? 

His heart was heating wildly. Tremors and chills 
ran up and down his spine. Lucidly he thought of 
Sunflower, her nerve, grit and self-control. This 
roused and strengthened his will. He rose up reso- 
lutely and stepped out on the terrace. He looked up 
and down the canyon and laughed, as well he might, 
for down by the pool were hundreds of drinking, wad- 
ing, dancing, flopping, flying, flghting turkeys. 

The question of subsistence was solved. The base- 
ball pitcher could throw a stone. Four dead turkeys 
were proof that his hand had not lost its cunning. 
Excited, he ran off down the terrace to secure his 
game. In his eagerness he forgot to limp or take his 
staff. He tossed the four turkeys up on the terrace 
by the stone oven. Gathering more driftwood, which 
he also threw up, he soon had a Are roaring and heat- 
ing the oven. This art he had learned from a Ger- 
man neighbor, little thinking it would he of use to 
him. How it was of more use to him than all his 
Greek and Eoman rubbish. 

While the oven was heating he dressed the four 
turkeys. Three were rubbed with salt and placed in 
the hot stone oven to bake. The fourth, being young 
and tender, he cut up and broiled over the coals, mak- 
ing a hearty meal. The three roast fowls would be 
ready for the next day. Having satisfied his hunger 
he went back to his bed. Sleep came soon, for he was 
weary. 


93 

Even the mournful, blood-curdling howls of the 
famished coyotes did not disturb his slumbers. The 
wolves scented the cooking meat. They smelled blood. 
They came up and around the pool and howled hid- 
eously. Owls screeched, bats whirred and grated their 
teeth, nighthawks whirled, circled, whizzed and 
whirred through the canyon, mosquitoes came and 
spent the night in blood-sucMng revelry. Through 
all John slept on as though all nature was also enjoy- 
ing a well-earned rest. 


CHAPTER YIL 


With a flint every day John made a deep^ long 
scratch on the sandstone wall. He counted the 
marks. There were fifteen. Ho one came to his res- 
cue. He no longer looked for them to come. He had 
long since ceased to hope for outside help. Pie 
must help himself or remain a hermit for a long time. 

The Darlings must he well on their way to Arizona, 
doubtless glad to he rid of the company of such an 
idiot. At least so thought John, in his lonely bit- 
terness. He was not on good terms with himself. 
Pie was sure he had acted like a born fool, like a bray- 
ing burro. Sunflov.^er must loathe and despise him. 
Her big brothers doubtless had their guns loaded for 
bear. The manager at the Artesian Wells was fully 
avenged, for John had long since become fully per- 
suaded that the ranchman had been both patient and 
honorable. It was this conviction which annoyed 
John and made him on had terms with himself. 

John decided he would soon start on foot to Cali- 
fornia and go through alone. His lameness did not 
trouble him much. Pie no longer used a staff. He 
would start in a few days, as it was growing cooler 
and the sands were less scorching. By looking at the 
sun and heavenly bodies he found the points of the 
compass. The north star should he his guide. That 
94 


95 

he was turned around he had schooled himself to for- 
get and re-learn the right directions. In this he had 
succeeded. In his many strolls and rambles he had 
found many wild plums and wild grapes. These, 
with unfailing turkey, left little to regret. 

The evening of the fifteenth day John was sitting 
on the terrace v/aiting for the turkeys, as they always 
came before going to roost. The turkeys came down, 
as usual, cautious, alert and skulkingly suspicious, 
like the Indian himself, but when once arrived at the 
pool the pow-wow began in fine style. But a new 
enemy Avas lurking in wait. Several coyotes crept 
stealthily in upon them. Instantly the air was seeth- 
ing with flying, flopping, frantic turkeys. Many, in 
their fright and panic, flcAV crashing against the rocky 
cliffs and fell back, stunned, into the very jaws of the 
red-mouthed devourers. 

John, forgetting his own deadly designs, tried to 
rush doAvn the terrace to club off the rival destroyers, 
but before he had gone twenty steps he was struck by 
a flying, panic-stricken turkey and whirled against 
the w^all. However, he grabbed the turkey by the leg 
and held it captive. Another turkey flew wildly 
against the rocks by John’s head and dropped down 
stunned and helpless. John grasped it by the head, 
thus securing two live birds, Avhich he tied together 
Avitii some strong grass Avithes and tossed them over 
into his bedroom alcove for further use. 

Nevertheless the Avolves surpassed him in deadly 
greed, notAvithstanding he hurled many admonishing 
rocks doAvn on their merciless heads. Finally they 


96 

fled;, each carrying a captured turkey by way of war- 
like indemnity. 

John hastily descended. He gathered up the dead 
and helpless turkeys and piled them in a heap. They 
had most all killed themselves in their frenzied panic 
by striking in mad flight against the upright canyon 
walls. This impact had killed many and wounded 
more. 

John selected such as suited him best — six fat, 
plump hen turkeys. These he cast up on the terrace 
wall, leaving the others piled up together, a mass of 
flopping wings, kicking feet and quivering bodies. 

He lighted his oven Are, which he always kept laid 
and ready. Soon he had the six turkeys skinned, 
drawn and stuffed with plums and grapes, ready to 
stack up in the hot oven to roast. The turkeys were 
very fat, as the timber was alive with grasshoppers. 

After the sun went down John saw many creeping, 
skulking, dark shadows. They were the wolves car- 
rying off the slain and disabled. He let them do their 
work unmolested. 

The six fat turkeys in the oven were a sight which 
gave John much satisfaction. He contemplated 
them with elation, if not masculine vanity. He 
wished in his heart that Sunflower could see that oven- 
ful of turkeys. Then she might have a higher opinion 
of his manly worth and enterprise and talk less proud- 
ly of the great things done by her brawny brothers. 
Verily John had a few, if not more, masculine traits, 
proclivities and ear-marks. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


It was long after midnight — almost morning — ^when 
John awoke from a sound sleep with a start and a 
thrill of alarm. His reason doubted his sense of 
hearing. He hastily crept out from his alcove and 
stealthily looked out from the terrace up toward the 
old buffalo run. His eyesight verified and confirmed 
his sense of hearing, for there certainly was a loaded 
wagon and several horsemen coming down toward the 
spring pool. They seemed excited and in much 
haste. 

If they had arrived at any other time of day or 
night John would have welcomed them with shouts of 
gladness, hut he was learning caution, if not Avisdom. 
He silently chose a position of observation and com 
cealment, a place where he could hear if not see all 
their movements. Suspicion and distrust were senti- 
ments newly and recently developed in the breast of 
John Martindale. Nevertheless they were the masters 
of the situation, to Arhich every generous impulse 
yielded submission. John Martindale doubting, ques- 
tioning and distrusting the motives of his brother men 
AA^as a neAv departure. He was more astonished at him- 
self than at the sight down by the pool. Instinct often 
takes us under her protecting wings when reason 
Avould lead us into danger. 

97 


98 

The men were lond-voiced, using language quite 
forcible if not altogether elegant. They were bright, 
energetic Americans. Of this John was certain. They 
might be even educated adventurers. They certainly 
were not ordinary travelers nor prospectors. 

As they halted around the pool one lighted a lan- 
tern and made some hurried examinations, which were 
satisfactory, for he said, confidently: “All right, 
boys; everything 0. 

Then they stripped otf the harness and unsaddled 
the horses, leading them to the pool to drink. The 
horses seemed suffering from thirst and overdriving. 
There was something strangely familiar in the faces 
and forms of these men. However, in the dim and 
uncertain light John was unable to place them or re- 
call anything definite. Still, he was sure he had seen 
them somewhere, under different conditions. 

They were all decently dressed, clean-shaven, well- 
featured and of large, athletic proportions; fine speci- 
mens of physical manhood. 

John listened intently to catch every word. They 
used many terms and phrases which were to John 
vague and ambiguous. Notwithstanding their 
strangely figurative language he was shrewd enough 
to guess that these men were fugitives, if not outlaws 
and evil-doers. One whom they called “Deacon” 
seemed an authorized leader. He gave his orders with 
military certainty. He called out distinctly, if not 
pompously: “Uncle Collis, you picket the horses out 
on the grass. Bring them in the timber at daylight. 
Uncle Sam, you attend to the commissary and freight. 


99 

Shepherd, you feed your flock. Opeu the box of 
crackers, fry ham and make coffee, while you. Dyna- 
mite, can air out your Castle and after breakfast run 
the wagon off down the canyon and blow open the 
safe.” 

At the name ^‘^Dynamite” John started back aghast, 
quivering with direful apprehensions. His heart 
seemed to leap up in his throat and a faint and sicken- 
ing sensation made him stagger backward, tripping 
over his staff, which swept off a few small stones and 
pebbles, that fell rattling down from the terrace. 

^‘What’s that?” said the Deacon in suppressed tones, 
alert and suspicious. 

^^Only an owl that we have started up,” answered 
the Shepherd with calm assurance. “I saw it fly over 
our heads just now.” 

J ohn breathed more freely. At least they had not 
discovered his presence. For this he was unspeak- 
ably thankful. He continued to listen, although half 
of the width of the canyon was out of range of his 
vision. At length he had a good view of the man 
called Dynamite. John recognized him as one of the 
tramps in the cattle car — the one who tore up his last 
shirt for rags to wrap around John’s sore feet. Yes; 
it was Dynamite, and he also recognized the others as 
late comrades. But where was the Unterrified? He 
was not mth these, for there were but five. 

Although they had ridden together in the cattle car, 
still John had no intention of renewing the acquaint- 
ance. Nine horses; a loaded wagon; a safe to be blown 
open. What did it all mean? John, like all man- 


100 

kind, thought the worst, the most atrocious deeds 
possible. What is imagination for if we must con- 
fine ourselves to facts? Facts are slow, common 
things and sometimes beyond our grasp. But a ready 
imagination does not heed such trifles as facts. The 
free-hand drawing of imagination is often a thing 
impossible and absurd. Nevertheless many go to 
imagination rather than take the trouble to learn the 
facts in the case. 

J ohn imagined these men had Sunflower somewhere 
concealed in that loaded wagon. He looked to see 
her dragged out, a miserable victim of man’s descent 
from the tadpole. But the facts proved that no cap- 
tive maiden w^as anywhere in all the boxes and bun- 
dles. One sin was taken from their door, inasmuch 
as Sunflower was elsewhere. 

One thing John observed was the pains taken by 
the driver to get the wagon near the opposite cliff and 
leave it standing directly under the tunnel-like open- 
ing. There must be some reason why the wagon was 
left in that particular position. J ohn could see every 
movement around the wagon. He waited impatiently 
the opening and -airing up of the Castle; nor had he 
long to wait. 

Dynamite took the lantern and hung it on his arm. 
He and the Deacon climbed up on top of the loaded 
wagon. The Deacon stood on top of the highest box, 
leaning one shoulder hard against the smooth wall. 
Dynamite sprung up on his shoulders; then with a 
quick movement vaulted from the Deacon’s shoulders 
into the mouth of the tunnel-like aperture. 


101 

Dynamite took the lantern in his hand and looked 
around eagerly. He seemed satisfied, for he called 
down to the other: ‘^All right. As Dynamite moved 
on and around, J ohn could see by the lighted lantern 
that the tunnel was also a corridor, for Dynamite was 
moving some loose stones that were piled up against 
what seemed a secret doorway, as he was tossing the 
stone back with unusual vigor. Having removed 
most of the stone, he placed his body against what, 
seemed the solid wall. It yielded. A portion sv/ung 
inward, as though hung on pivots. Carrying the lan- 
tern, he disappeared in what seemed a room. He left 
the swinging door open, as if to air out the Castle. 
Soon a fiat stone swung back from the face of the 
cliff and the light gleamed out across the abyss for a 
moment, then disappeared; yet the dark, mouth-like 
opening remained. Three other openings of different 
form and higher position were left like dark spots or 
patches on the lighter surface of the upright wall or 
ledge. 

Then the shadowy form of Dynamite was visible on 
the summit of the canyon wall. He called down to 
the men cheerfully, if not proudly: ^‘^All right; go 
ahead.” 

At this they all sprung to moving a pile of stone 
from the base of the canyon wall, some fifty feet fur- 
ther up in the bend of the wall. They cleared 
the stone from a space about six feet wide, leaving the 
stone piled at the side, like two stone piles instead of 
one, as at first. 

When this was done the men stood around as though 


102 

waiting the final action in opening up the Castle. Nor 
had they long to wait. Soon a slow, grating sound 
was heard; then a part of the seemingly solid wall 
commenced to move, or rather swing outward, hke a 
door. It was so adjusted on pivots that standing 
open, at right angles to the walls, it made an opening 
as large as a closet door. Moreover there were cracks 
running off and away from the opening, made with 
such art and tracery that no eye could find the door- 
way hy the cracks in the wall. John felt sure the 
V.' hole work was done hy skillful engineers and not hy 
the ordinary clumsy cliff-dwellers. 

Dynamite stood smiling in the doorway. By the 
light John could look into this apartment, which was 
about twenty feet square. The room was empty, save 
a long standing ladder, which doubtless led to the 
upper rooms. True, there were a few stone seats and 
what might he used as a stone table. The lantern was 
left standing on the primitive stone table. 

Uncle Collis had returned from picketing the horses 
and assisted the others in shoving back the wagon up 
by the now open Castle door, where they unloaded all 
save two large trunks and the unopened safe. The 
two trunks looked like those immense affairs used by 
traveling clothing men to carry around their samples. 
One thing is certain, they were too large to pass in 
through the Castle doorway. The Deacon unlocked 
them with a hatchet, smashing in the tops without 
regard to future use. Then they yanked out the stock 
of ready-made goods and threw them into the store- 


103 

room in a confused mass of pants, coats and vests of 
all sizes and colors. 

It was daylight when they sat down by the wagon to 
eat breakfast, which the Shepherd had cooked by an 
outdoor wood fir^e. They used one of the broken 
trunks for a table, on which were placed tin plates, 
cups, knives and forks. They used boxes and stones 
for seats. When they were seated they fell to devour- 
ing ham, crackers, cheese and canned goods as though 
they had worked hard and fasted long. 

D^mamite was talkative. He seemed the only one 
familiar with the Castle and its appointments. The 
others appeared to be making their first visit to Castle 
Canyon, as they called the place. They asked many 
questions and seemed delighted with so retired a re- 
treat; not that they were so fond of natural scenery, 
but for other reasons of personal potency. 

The hot cotlee, the ample breakfast or the old asso- 
ciations of the Castle — something made Dynamite 
communicative, if not confidential. His mind seemed 
to go back to the past and linger fondly on its scenes 
and exploits. Moreover, the others were interested 
and encouraged him by questions and profound atten- 
tion. His voice was clear and penetrating, with a 
metallic ring and a magnetic thrill, pitched like the 
voice of a popular stump speaker. In fact, persuasion 
and the arts of oratory were a natural gift to this son 
of social rebellion. He was sa3dng, in his best ora- 
torical strain: can tell you, boys, things have 

changed in the last twenty years. Those who work 
their games inside of the law, within the statutes, are 


104 

on top, loaded with plunder. Those who work out- 
side of the law are down to the bottom, stripped to the 
last shirt. 

tell you things have changed, even in the last 
ten years. The train industry has been overworked 
and overdone. It has petered out. It grows un- 
profitable and doubly dangerous. Now, there was our 
first Deacon, he who planned and engineered this 
Castle and the decoy works over on the opposite wall 
— bossed and put through the whole job. He was a 
real taking evangelist. He taught the traveling pub- 
lic to give to those who ask — at the muzzle of his con- 
tribution-persuader. He would pass through a car 
taking up the offerings right and left, bowing and 
smirking, with the bland smile of a real orthodox 
deacon. Meantime I would blow open the express 
safe, swipe in the needful and ride off to the next camp 
meeting. Oh, those were glorious days for us circuit v 
riders. But things are changed. A greater and^ a 
safer scoop has discounted our methods — a ^survival 
of the fittest.’ We are passing away like the Indian 
and the buffalo. The ruthless thirst of civilization 
drank up their blood and is now thirsting for our 
gore. Alas for the dear old Deacon! I can almost 
see him now, passing down through the aisle, beam- 
ing and bowing to the sisters as they toss their purses 
and jewels into his gunnysack, a cocked pistol in each 
hand and a bowie knife or two in his belt. I tell 
you he had an eloquent, taldng way with him. He was 
a picturesque figure. He made traveling exciting 
and worth a man’s while. 


105 

^^Alas, poor old Deacon! One night he went to 
sleep in the very act of passing around the sack, tak- 
ing up the offerings. Oh, that was a terrible night 
for experiences! I led the choir. I went around to 
the back door to come into the express car. I had 
singers with me to tend to the musical part of the 
meeting. We were having a real refreshing time, 
everything going on according to programme, when 
down rushed the engineer from his engine and shot 
down my three musicians and wounded me in the 
arm, leg and shoulder. Who do you suppose that 
engineer was — that engineer who broke up our meet- 
ing? I will tell you. It was the XJnterrified himself. 
That was where he first was called the Unterrified. 
I escaped by the skin of my teeth by a backward jump 
into outer darkness. I was mad with pain. The 
devil seemed putting up a job. In my fury I hurled 
dynamite on the old engine and made a run for life. 
The old engine went up, but the engineer had gone 
down by the Pullmans. As I was running to reach 
the horses (we had hitched them ready for the home 
run) I saw a man ahead of me, fleeing with a large 
grip in his hand. I called to him to mount and 
ride wild for his life. He answered me in a strange 
voice, for we were in outer darkness, saying: “Til 
give a hundred dollars for a horse; no questions 
asked.^^ At this I knew he was some boodle passen- 
ger getting away with his loot — going out before the 
contribution was taken up — a thing never permitted 
at our meetings. I was mad as a wounded grizzly. 
I knocked him down with my gun, snatched his grip 


106 

from his hand. Yon see, I was honnd to have a 
souvenir of some kind. I looked hack at the lighted 
train. There I saw the old Deacon throw up his 
hands and fall as that unterrified engineer shot him 
through the car window. The meeting was out. t 
heard some one call out: ^D3mamite!’ I answered; 
^To the Castle!^ which was our command for retreat. 

untied two or three of the hoys’ horses to make a 
blind trail, mounted my own horse and rode away. 
You bet that was tall riding. The boys’ horses fol- 
lowed, tearing, snorting and riderless. 

rode all that night as though Satan was after me. 
The riderless horses kept me company — a hot, wide 
trail for bloodhounds to follow. 

^‘Near daylight I rode up to a ranch barn, swiped 
four grain sacks, tied them over my horse’s feet, 
while the other horses were eating and drinking. I 
put my feet in bags and stole silently away from the 
riderless horses, leading my own out around a bit of 
wire fence. Eemounting I rode off, leaving the rider- 
less horses to their own guidance. I heard them 
whinny and neigh, hut would not let mine answer. 

^^All that time I kept that fool’s grip in my hand or 
tied to my saddle. You see it was all I had to show 
for service. 

^^After sunrise I reached a lonely strip of timber. I 
rode on in its concealing shade, slower, of course, 
which was almost like stopping to rest, which I did 
once by a creek. I let my horse eat grass while I 
piclmd a few berries, for T was growing hungry. 

^T knew every foot of the country. I 'chose the most 


107 

lonely pathway. I removed the grain sacks from 
my horse’s feet and burned them, as well as a few 
square miles of prairie. 

“Toward night I picketed my horse and went on a 
hit and covered myself up with dry grass and slept 
an hour or two, sound as an infant. At sundown I 
mounted and rode in through the more settled parts. 
I was making ready for the long, hard home run. 

“About midnight I stopped at a farmer’s barn. 
There were two horses in it. I turned them out on 
the range, fed and watered my horse, cut up a grain 
sack and tied over my horse’s hoofs, put some on my 
own feet, led out my horse, mounted and set fire to the 
barn and rode silently av^ay. 

“The bloodhounds lost my trail. I rode all that 
night. In the morning I took off the feet cloths 
and again set fire to the prairie, which I soon left 
flaming far behind. 

“I rode, circling about and around, fully three hun- 
dred miles. My horse dropped down dead before I 
reached the Castle. I made the rest of the way on 
foot; famished, wounded, alone and that miserable 
gripsack my only prize. 

“I opened the Castle, ate myself sick, hound up my 
wounds and waited for some of the hoys to come here. 
There were eight of us. I saw four all dead. But the 
other three; where were they? I waited around here, 
alone, for a month, for my wounds were troublesome. 

“Just to think, all that work, trouble and loss for one 
old brown grip ! I had no heart to touch or open the 
accursed thing. One day when I was getting over 


108 

my wounds I mustered up spirit enough to open the 
old thing. It was crammed, rammed, jammed full of 
— what do you hoys guess?” 

“Dirty shirts,” drawled Uncle Sam. 

“Tracts and hymnbooks,” laughed the Shepherd. 

“Mghtshirts and silk underwear,” said the Deacon. 

“Snide stock and maps of mines,” sighed Uncle 
Collis. 

“Uo, gentlemen; you are all off. That grip was 
filled with greenbacks — more money than all our of- 
ferings collected outside of the law; a cool half mil- 
lion dollars; not a hill less than five hundred dollars. 
I tell you it made me feel had to look at all that money 
and none of the boys here to rejoice or share with me.” 

“Don’t grieve any more about that,” put in Uncle 
Collis, cunningly. “We are with you now. We will 
gladly share your bounty. We will thankfully re- 
ceive your generous, noble, brotherly bounty,” con- 
tinued Uncle Collis, in a purring, artful, insinuating 
voice. 

“I intend to do the square thing by you hoys. I 
told you this when I tried to hold you off from this 
last call,” said Dynamite, reproachfully. “That comes 
on later,” continued the safe-opener, with interest in 
the story he was telling. “Now about that satchel 
filled with greenbacks. I learned afterward that a 
great promoter of swipes within the law was found 
dead in the weeds near the wreck of the shattered 
engine. He had been struck by something in the side 
of the face, near the temple. Although no hit of the 


109 

wreckage was near him, yet the inquest gave the 
verdict ^Killed by the explosion/ 

^‘They further stated that the promoter had been 
east selling watered railway stocks and snide bonds of 
salted gold mines; a worthy citizen, lamented by his 
victims and the admiring public,” sneered Dynamite 
in bitterness. 

^^What did you do with the money?” asked Uncle 
Collis, not without interest. 

^Uh, I used a few thousand. The remainder is 
here all right enough. It was part of this money I 
offered to give the Unterrified if he would help us 
wreck a passenger train. I did not expect him to do 
it, hut I wanted to sound him on that point. I have a 
good standing offer of twenty thousand dollars, by 
the ^push,^ if I will or can mix him up in some atro- 
cious crime and hand him over to the clutches of the 
law. But now that he is one of us — a Lily of Solo- 
mon — I would not betray him for all the wealth of the 
plutocracy. Nevertheless I was curious. I wanted to 
test the power of money and try the worth of his man- 
hood, now that he is blacklisted and reduced to beg- 
gary. Boys, do you bring to mind how he scorned 
and mocked my offer — even ordered us to leave the 
track, as though he were old Huntington himself? 
How he threw up his head and sniffed and snorted 
as though he would spit on us in his loathing? He, a 
vagrant, a hobo, a vagabond, a jailbird, a worker on 
rockpiles and in chain gangs, yet at heart a loyal rail- 
roader through and through; the same old unterrified 


110 

engineer that wiped out our gang and made the train 
industry stale and unprofitable. 

^‘^Boys, just think of it; mocking and spitting on a 
hundred thousand dollars that was coming your way; 
coming begging to you to take it in your hands! Oh, 
but he did walk off with his nose in the air, as proud 
and haughty as a lord. 

^‘1 tell you, boys, train robbing has played out. It 
is even worse played out than that ancient and once 
respectable industry, slave trading, or piracy on the 
high seas.’’ 

^^But you are going to ‘divvy up’ with us. I know 
your generosity too well to doubt that,” interrupted 
Uncle Collis, anxiously, if not coaxingly. 

told you I would give you all a share, but I shall 
not divide with you. I am still waiting for the two 
who are missing. I divide with them. It is of my 
own part I shall give you a share — under certain con- 
ditions,” declared Dynamite, with great positiveness. 
“Yes, you must remember I shall make conditions 
and as a Lily of Solomon your oath will be given and 
taken. But let us,” continued Dynamite, “open this 
last safe and see what we have here. I can open it in 
three minutes.” 

At this they all sprung up, laughing, from their rus- 
tic table and pushing the wagon off down the canyon, 
beyond the range of John’s outlook and also beyond 
his hearing. 

While they were gone John fixed himself up in a 
way to see and hear and not be seen. He scattered 
his grass bed around on the terrace promiscuously. 


Ill 

reserving some of the finest and brownest to cover 
over his prostrate form, to hide him from view in case 
some of them took it into their heads to come up on the 
terrace. From his outlook he had a full view of the 
pool and the greater part of the surrounding canyon. 

An explosion, which thundered, echoed and re- 
echoed against the rocky walls, told how Dynamite 
deserved his name. John could hear the men run- 
ning down to see what was in the safe. Soon there 
went up a howl of derision, yells, hoots and Apache 
war-whoops, mingled with shrieks and shouts of 
laughter. In a few minutes the men came hack to 
finish their breakfast. They were soon seated, pour- 
ing coffee, as if to begin breakfast anew. 

When the babel of profane disgust had somewhat 
subsided again the clarion voice of the safe-opener 
was heard, like a steam whistle above a clucking hen. 
He said with chilling disdain: ^^Three dolars and fif- 
teen cents! Heavens, hoys, let us send it hack with our 
regrets. Thunder, what a sell! Five men laying low 
for a month; five men risking life, liberty and the pur- 
suit of happiness, all for three dollars and fifteen 
cents! It is atrocious! It is infamous! We ought 
to be sent over the road for a set of fools. I tell you 
common, cheap, vulgar, illegal robbery has played out, 
as well as the train industry. But to raid a village 
store, a country store, swipe nine horses, more or less, 
haul a safe fifty miles and then get three dollars and 
fifteen cents! ^What a fall, my countrymen, what a 
falir 

^^Now, hoys, what do you say to plajdng the return- 


112 

ing prodigal farce; go back to the bosom of our fam* 
ilies, back to respectability, back to society and to le- 
galized boodle? What do you say to going into poli- 
tics — games inside of the law; get a charter, a fran- 
chise; form a trust, syndicate or corporation, then rob 
and plunder the public in a genteel, respectable, law- 
ful style ? What do you say to this T’ 

are willing,^’ ^^We are agreeable,^^ ‘‘We are wid 
you, Paddy Plinn,’^ “We are your huckleberry,” 
shouted the others in discordant chorus. 

“But before giving you each twenty thousand dol- 
lars I shall expect you to swear by the awful oath of 
our brotherhood,” said Dynamite, firmly. 

“What are the conditions?” asked the Deacon, de- 
murely. 

“The conditions are simple and few. You are to 
work inside of the law and work the public to the top 
of their bent; but never go outside of the law. There 
are blooming chances therein to rob, plunder and 
swindle in a legal, business-like manner. Henceforth 
and henceforward respectable knavery is to be your 
only field of operation. 

“You may not believe it,” asserted Dynamite, “but 
at a swing of a stone I can set you all up in some legal, 
polite way of robbery that will please the admiring 
public, without fear of bars, ropes or live wires. How 
what do you say?” 

“Yes,” “Yes,” “Yes,” “Yes, by the great oath of the 
Lilies of Solomon,” answered the four men eagerly. 

“That is satisfactory,” answered Dynamite, without 
emotion. “Now, Deacon,” resumed the safe-opener, 


113 

“wliat will you do with twenty thousand dollars put 
down in your fist?’^ 

^‘1 will go to the Green hotel in Pasadena/’ an- 
swered the Deacon, as if dreaming of future splendor 
and plutocratic revelry. ‘^There at the Green I shall 
take a fine suite of rooms, dress well, pose as a mil- 
lionaire, marry an heiress and live fly ever after, like 
an exclusive aristocrat.” 

‘‘All right. Deacon; you are up-to-date,” said Dyna- 
mite, as if wonderfully pleased at his favorite. “Now, 
Shepherd, what will you do to gull and grill the suf- 
fering public?” demanded the benefactor. 

Tlie Shepherd looked sheepish, if not decently 
ashamed of himself. He hesitated, turned in his seat, 
stood hi's knife and fork on the ends of their handles 
on the table, as if to stiffen and strengthen his pur- 
pose and position. Yet still he hesitated. 

“Out with it,” urged Dynamite encouragingly. 

“Well, if you must know, I suppose you might as 
well hear first as last. I shall study for an orthodox 
preacher. I can do it. I have the sad sweet, sanc- 
timonious style. I have been Shepherd so long T 
should otherwise miss my flock. Besides, I have a 
real gift among the ewe lambs and my begging talents 
would find an ample field to exploit. You must re- 
member my genius in getting ‘hand-outs.’ Such tal- 
ents should not be hid under a bushel measure, but 
their light should shine out where it will do the most 
good. I feel called, like a good Shepherd, to con- 
tinue around the sheepfold.” 

“You will be a daisy, a beauty, a fine wolf to let in 


114 

among the lambs/^ sneered the Deacon in infinite dis- 
gust. ‘^^You old rascal, give that up or Dll wipe the 
earth with you right here,^^ continued the Deacon, 
with increasing wrath. 

‘‘Well, I will promise to go out of the country; go 
out as a missionary or stay here and open a saloon. 
Anything to suit the crowd,” said the Shepherd, with 
careless indifference. 

“Uncle Collis, it remains for you and Uncle Sam 
to tell your designs. Of course you two will act to- 
gether, as you always have done, but what particular 
line of legalized plunder suits your long-trained tal- 
ents?” questioned the benefactor, not without con- 
tempt. 

Uncle Sam smiled. Uncle Collis looked at his 
chum and winked with a wise and wicked wag. They 
each answered as one man: “Bankers,” and laughed ;i 
mirthless, dry ha, ha. 

“National bank,” continued Uncle Collis, with 
covetous greed. “That will be my end of the string 
— all interest and no taxes. Just give us twenty-five 
thousand apiece” — he added the five thousand as a liint 
for more, as he was artful as well as avaricious — “then 
Uncle Sam can look after the national bank while I 
start a savings bank not far away. He can let me have 
some of his first issue of bills to pay my savings bank 
depositors a fat per cent on deposits, as a bait for suck- 
ers. Then when the deposits make it worth while I 
run the cash over to Uncle Sam’s shebang; then start 
a run on myself, suspend payment, bust up, go into 
hands of receiver. Honest Uncle Sam would make a 


115 

good receiver — a sort of a taking, endless chain. Glo- 
rious ^biz’ all around, for I could go to another city, 
start a broker’s bank and wipe out the depositors — 
world without end. Ah, what a field is open within 
the law for men of our mold! Genteel brain work is 
my best holt henceforth and forever. It lays out the 
country store swag and train industry ten to one. Go 
ahead. Dynamite, like a dutiful daddy, and set up 
your brood in fine shape. You will find us a credit 
to modern business methods, if not an honor to Castle 
Canyon itself; bright and shining lights in the firma- 
ment of cunning workers of the admiring public.” 

When Uncle Collis ceased speaking there was 
silence for a few moments, as though the joys of 
imagined wealth anticipation were more pleasing than 
any amount of idle talk. 

At length the voice of the Deacon was heard asldng 
what he himself would do. He answered almost with- 
out interest, saying: 

^Uh, I may go into politics after awhile. They 
say I have a voice and a gift of gab and an intuitive 
knowledge of men. It turns my gorge to think of 
shouting and shrieking ‘^patriotism,’ Royalty,’ daw and 
order’ and ‘^Old Glory,’ while in the meantime I am be- 
traying the people, selling their rights, stealing their 
liberties and welding the chains of serfdom on the 
helpless hands of labor. No; I swear I am not equal 
to that kind of iniquity. I could rob an express 
safe of its money, hut not a trusting constituency of 
their birthright. If I go into politics I shall repre- 
sent the opposition. 


116 

guess I will go abroad for a few years, take my 
wife, son and daughter and travel around a little; per- 
haps buy a lord for a son-in-law, or some such cheap 
folly/^ 

^^Good for you. Dynamite shouted the others, ad- 
miringly. ^‘Then you could spread the order of Lil- 
ies of Solomon among the do-nothing-useful snobs of 
Europe. Then as a Lily of Solomon you would be 
strictly in it. Why didnT you do it before T’ inquired 
the Deacon, wonderingly. 

‘^Why not do it before?” repeated Dynamite, with 
offended dignity. suppose if I tell you my reasons 
you may not sympathize with my scruples nor under- 
stand my motives. Honor among thieves is not obso- 
lete, whatever it may be among politicians or business 
exploiters. If you will call to mind the night when 
our gang went to pieces through the agency of our 
fraternal enemy, the Unterrified, the blacklisted en- 
gineer, there were then eight of us. I saw four shot 
down. Another was afterward killed trying to escape. 
That leaves two unaccounted for, two missing. I 
escaped and have waited and searched for five years 
to find these two missing men, to divide up and dis- 
band. 

‘T advertised in ways known among ourselves, but 
have never heard one lisp from them. I read and 
re-read the account of the whole affair in many news- 
papers, colored red with reporters’ ink; but not a word 
or hint as to the fate of the two missing men.” 

“Those two, who disappeared so timely, might have 
been detectives in disguise, who led you into the trap,” 


117 

said the Deacon, who was fond of finding out mys- 
teries. 

“Not much. Yon are off there, for they were both 
my own brothers, sons of my foxy old father.^’ 

“Perhaps they were both wonnded and fied to- 
gether, dying when they reached some rendezvous,” 
said Uncle Collis, in artfully assumed sorrow. 

“No; I visited all our stations and hiding places, hut 
found no word or sign from them. They would have 
left some writing or word for me if they had been 
there.” 

“They may have thought you killed when the engine 
exploded,” suggested the Deacon, the riddle guesser 
and puzzle worker. 

“Perhaps that is the real reason, but I can tell if 
they have been here by examining the place where they 
kept their individual deposits.” 

“Do you really know where they hid their share of 
the spoil?” queried Uncle Collis, with cunning 
cupidity. 

“Of course I do,” replied Dynamite, with virtuous 
condescension. “We were no board of trade gang, to 
rob each other when outside victims grew shy. No, 
sir. We were square and loyal to each other; you 
can bet your life on that.” 

“CanT you go and see if they have taken their 
money?” pleaded Uncle Collis, with needless interest. 

“Yes. You all remain here while I go into the 
Castle and look over the various deposits.” 

He went alone, entering by the lower door, which 
he wisely closed behind him, for Uncle Collis sprung 


118 

up to follow, spy or listen; but the Deacon yanked him 
back to his seat, frowning savagely. 

In about twenty minutes Dynamite returned. He 
was radiant. He said, joyously: ^‘They are alive. 
They have both been here. They have taken their 
own. They left this bit of paper for me in one of 
their vaults. I will read it to you: 

“ ^Dear Dyna: That was a black old night. I 
heard you call ^^Castle.” The Kid and I made a dash- 
ing jump for liberty, but were both hit hard; but the 
darkness covered our persons. I kept close to the 
Kid. He was rattled and run wild. I overtook him 
and grasped his hand. When he knew who it was 
leading him he said he was faint from loss of blood 
or the shock. He fainted. I took him in my arms 
and carried him about ten rods till I came to a church. 
I took him up by a back door of the church. In three 
minutes I picked the lock and took him in, closing the 
door. He was bleeding freely, but the wound was one 
I knew how to manage. I worked over him all night. 
At the first fiush of dawn I carried him up in the 
church loft; also some cushions for his bed. Then I 
went out to a well back of the church, pumped a pail 
of water, cleaned off all the blood spots, swiped the 
preacher’s water pitcher and filled that and carried it 
up to the Kid. 

Toor as a church mouse means more to me, now 
that we lived there for four weeks. But I managed. 
You know our Spartan training taught us many useful 
things. Enough; at the end of four weeks we took 
the cars for Denver — honest shippers, looking after a 


119 

sale of stock. There we found friends and stayed 
three months, till our wounds were all right and the 
Kid fit to ride. Then we came down here, hoping to 
get some word from you, hut found nothing, not a 
word nor a line, nor anything to show you had been 
here or had escaped. But the Kid says you surely 
have been here, as the dried figs are all gone and the 
stock of provisions has been opened and some used. 

“ ‘We take our share and two-thirds of the dead 
hoys’ pile, as we have a grand chance to join the sugar 
trust — big hoodie and no fear of the law, bullets or 
hangman’s rope. 

“ ‘If you are living you will surely come down here. 
Of this we are certain, so we leave your brain-money. 
Take our advice. Go into something fiy that has law 
on your side, safe and sure. With your share and a 
third of the dead boys’ pile you will have about a half 
a million. With that cash you can join some trust, 
syndicate or corporation and get brain-money more 
to the people’s liking. I should advise the oil trust 
or some other sanctified cinch. 

“ ‘At the end of seven years we will come down 
again. If you have not been here then we will take 
all the valuables and blow up the Castle. 

“ ‘But the Kid will have it you have been here. If 
so you will come back again. He says you are too 
slow for fly snaps and advises government bonds, and 
avoid taxes. You have many bonds now and lots of 
coupons to cut. 

“ ‘You can find us at any time at the Palace hotel. 


120 

San Francisco. We are way-np society big bugs, high 
mucky-mucks. Aethur Brothers.’ ” 

Dynamite read the letter in a loud, tremulous voice. 
When he had finished he said, smiling fondly: ^^The 
dear lads are somewhat free with their juvenile ad- 
vice,” and he laughed nervously. 

However, he told his listeners that they all must 
leave the Castle within a day or two, as he wished to 
consult his brothers on important business matters. 
They all seemed willing and ready to go. Perhaps 
the thought of the twenty thousand apiece took away 
their desire for prolonged sylvan scenes. 

During the partial silence which followed the read- 
ing Uncle Collis muttered audibly: “A half million 
and another half a million make a million dollars; 
then to give us, your pals and comrades, only a paltry 
twenty-five thousand each,” grumbled Uncle Collis, 
with contemptible avarice. ‘T can’t believe it. Ho 
true Lily of Solomon would treat us so shabbily.” 

‘TIold on there. Uncle Collis,” commanded Dyna- 
mite, in mock majesty. ‘^You are going rather fast 
for the first visit to the Castle. Such speed is dan- 
gerous. Furthermore, I never said twenty-five thou- 
sand dollars. I said twenty thousand dollars. That 
is just nineteen thousand nine hundred and ninety- 
nine dollars and ninety-nine cents more than you 
would give to-day if you stood in my boots; so shut up 
your growling, or I may learn meanness from you and 
give you nothing.” 

“Oh, come, now, old fellow; can’t you take a joke?” 
purred Uncle Collis, coaxingly. “We are all satisfied 


121 

with twenty thousand — more than satisfied. We are 
grateful. We are thankful. We are overwhelmed by 
your unheard-of generosity and fraternal nobleness. 
Of course a man of your make and mold could never 
let an old comrade go off into the swine-like world 
empty-handed. It is not hke you to be stingy and 
greedy, like common, cheap, rich men. You could 
not lower yourself to their level; no, not if you tried. 
Nature gave you a great head and heart, whatever 
trips and slips you may have made. At heart you are 
a real true Christian gentleman; none of the Ananias 
breed, either; one of the pure and primitive brother- 
hood.^’ 

“There, that will do. Such wads and gobs of taffy 
make us tired of sweets. Nevertheless it does taste 
good to the natural mouth,” said Dynamite, laughing 
good-naturedly. 

“What might be taffy if given to others is less than 
the truth in your case,” remarked the Deacon, admir- 

ingly- 

“Don’t, boys. You make me feel flat as a fool. I 
have never been used to praise or appreciation. I am 
not prepared to ward off things of that land. It 
makes me sorry that I have not always been a good, 
just and worthy man.” 

“Anyhow, you can depend on our united support 
in all your political plots and plans. “We are ‘yours 
truly,’ as the letter- writer says,” put in Uncle Sam, 
with oily fervor. 

“We will also give you a turkey banquet to-morrow 
night,” added Uncle Collis, gushing with good will 


122 

and desire to honor if not deceive, “x4.li, yes; a ban- 
quet in honor of onr distinguished benefactor. Bet 
your life it will be a swell function, as they say in so- 
ciety. Eemember us when we get our banks started 
and come around and deposit a few thousand, just to 
give us a friendly starter.^^ 

“Come, come, boys,’^ said the Deacon, drowsily, 
“Come; let us get ready for a good all-day sleep!’’ 


CHAPTER IX. 


With a thrill of gladness John saw them making 
ready for t heir all-day sleep. His prone and mo- 
tionless position was growing painful. He had heard 
enough. He had listened to the side of the defendant. 
He had a second time beheld polite, complaisant so- 
ciety as pictured by the opposition; a leering, cow- 
ardly cartoon; a revolting travesty; Lilies of Solomon, 
forsooth a sweet-scented bouquet if they themselves 
were allowed to judge the merit of odors. 

John wondered if the human race, from Adam 
down, were built on the plan of universal self -justi- 
fication. Mankind made him weary. The human 
race would require untold centuries to understand or 
practice the simple first principles of Christas ChriS' 
tianity. Churchanity they may practice and under- 
stand, but the sermon on the mount, to such, is a 
meaningless jingle of sweet-sounding generalities. 

John, being a poet, caught a faint gleam of the 
grand and sublime truth contained and overlooked in 
that sermon. His grand and lofty ideal fell far short 
of reaching the standard of love and brotherhood, 
therein commanded. He was burdened and borne 
down by education and inherited tendencies. Never- 
theless his spiritual eyes caught glimpses of unspeak- 


124 

able fraternal love, the love that is sacrifice and self- 
sacrifice. 

There was in one remote corner of his sonl a faint 
ra}^ of divine enlightenment, a light not of this world, 
worldly, but a divine light, which he in his weak, 
erring way tried to follow. It was this divine light 
which led him off and beyond the beaten pathways 
chosen by the self-serving world. Still, fortunately 
he lived in an age when heretics ar not burned — only 
roasted or scorched by being branded cranks, fools, 
nihilists, anarchists and enemies of ^daw and order!” 
Poor John Martindale, with all his poverty and trou- 
bles, to be led off by divine lights and divine in- 
spirations. How much the blind world should pity 
him will never be known, as they have no measure, no 
standard within themselves whereby to measure his 
unfortunate gift of seeing the divine truth by divine 
light. However, he was not utterly miserable. In 
his present painful condition he had the joy of seeing 
the men enter the Castle and draw the doors back in- 
ward. He felt assured that he should see them no 
more that day. 

He rose to his feet, shook off the dry grass, brush- 
ing and shaking his clothes vigorously, congratulating 
himself that the gang had not discovered his presence. 
He took out his pocket mirror and combed the grass 
and hay from his waving hair, which he parted in the 
middlew ith great exactness. 

He looked across the canyon to the silent Castle and 
sprung backward aghast, for over in the mouth of the 
tunnel stood Dynamite, shaking and dusting his blan- 


125 

kets, apparently without having seen or noticed 
John, who had continued silently to sink back out of 
sight. Finally the safe-opener, having dusted his 
blankets to his liking, wrapped them around him and 
lay down in the open tunnel, behind the stone re- 
moved from the side doors. After waiting for what 
seemed to John an hour or more he untied one of the 
captive turkeys and forcibly pushed it forward till it 
flopped and tumbled off, fluttering down from the 
terrace. 

Dynamite rose up like one who has not been sleep- 
ing and looked down on the benumher, reeling, skulk- 
ing turkey; but he did not seem to raise his eyes over 
where John was concealed. The safe-opener’s curios- 
ity being apparently satisfied, he again dropped out of 
sight. 

After waiting another tiresome hour John set free 
the remaining turkey, which flopped and fluttered, 
flew and fell off down by the pool, without bringing 
dynamite again to the mouth of the tunnel. 

J ohn felt proud of his tact and strategem. Think- 
ing himself unseen an dthe way clear, he took off his 
old shoes, carrying them in his hand. He tip-toed off 
down the terrace to the oven, where he secured a large 
quantity of roast turkey and hastened down to the 
lower watering place, where he drank and filled his 
canteen, going into the dense timber, where he ate at 
his leisure. After eating and drinking he thought of 
the notices fastened to the trees. He walked out and 
tore them down, lest the inmates of the Castle find 
them and learn his whereabouts. Having pulled 


126 

down quite a number and scattered the fragments he 
was confident and positively certain that at least one 
danger was averted. He strolled about through the 
timber till long after noon. Then he thought he 
would try his powers at trailing. He passed on and 
around over the canyon, down by the old buffalo run. 
Here he tried to trail the horses to where they were 
tied in the timber. Seeing tracks, he followed them, 
but they grew dim and confused. However, as he 
must pass the da}^ away from the terrace, he wandered 
on without alertness or suspicion. At length he heard 
a low whinny, as a horse neighs at the approach of 
some person expected to bring feed. 

John hurried dtoward the place. There, in a small, 
open swale, were five horses, securely lariated. He 
went up to them with some shyness. Yet one, a beau- 
tiful black, of which he had heard Dynamite speak, 
seemed an ideal saddle horse. He went up to her. 
She seemed both gentle and affectionate. John patted 
her neck, arranging her long, glossy mane. Here 
was a horse that John could love and admire. He 
w^as not in the least afraid of her. She seemed to like 
his caresses and attention. After petting and patting 
her neck he pulled fine grass and gave it to her. She 
ate it greedily, reaching out her head for more. To 
feed her; to vault on her back; to spring off lightly; 
then jump on again; how charming. Through all she 
stood patiently, as if expecting the word “Go.” 

Once, as he was on her back, leaning down to pat 
her neck, he thought he heard twigs or bushes rustle 


127 

or crack and break. He listened, still sitting astride 
the beautiful black. 

Seeing nothing unusual, he dismounted and com- 
menced to look her over, as he had seen horsemen, lift- 
ing her feet, rubbing down her legs, looking in her 
eyes and mouth, as though he were a jockey about to 
make a purchase. To him the other horses were ordi- 
nary bronchos. He gave them small attention, al- 
ways returning to the trim black thoroughbred. 

All at once John was seized with a wild, instinctive 
desire to mount the black mare and flee from perils, 
possible and probable. The temptation was mighty 
and masterful. 

In the language of mercenary society, John had 
stolen a ride in an empty freight car, but the liberty 
of no person was thereby imperiled. Ho one was dis- 
possessed of their property or goods. The car re- 
mained, having been put to getter use carrying God^s 
poor children. 

But to take this horse from men whose liberty was 
forfeit, by trespass, unforgiven by sinners, was to take 
away not only their property but the greater posses- 
sion, their liberty as well. To these outlaws these 
horses meant more than the horses of honest men. 
Ho; he could not do this unholy, double crime. Eea- 
son and instinct made a battleground of his sensitive 
soul. They pulled, hauled, clawed and lacerated. 
Instinct, the flesh, the animal in man, rose up and 
clamored flerce and curious, saying to his soul, or his 
reason: “You are lame, far from the abode of men, 
with deserts and starvation besetting your pathway. 


128 

Fool, take this fleet horse from such as they and fly 
while you can from the clutches of criminals. 

Then reason would answer: no; not a horse 

thief. My liberty is not forfeit to the law which 
knows no mercy. My mother’s son shall not steal 
from men — transgressing brothers, like those outlaws. 
To oceup3^ an empty car of some rich, soulless cor- 
poration was not like taking the means of escape from 
one of God’s trespassing children, whom we in our 
greed have not forgiven. Again instinct rose up in 
wrath, shouting decisively: ^Tool! Madman! You 
know less than the eagle, the fox or the wolf. Self- 
preservation is the first law of nature.” ^‘Aye! Aye!” 
shrieked reason, ‘^and the last law recognized by man.” 

J ohn was almost frantic. His whole being was ^rent 
and torn by the terrible temptation of the fleet black 
mare. He walked away, going backward, with his 
eyes still gazing fondly on the beautiful black. He 
groaned aloud in his mental anguish: ^^Oh, this temp- 
tation; this awful temptation! God help me to resist! 
Oh, mother in heaven, direct me what to do!” 

“Come here to-morrow night and it shall he re- 
vealed,” answered a voice, sad, strange and sepulchral. 
John whirled around, looked wildly about, hut saw- 
no one. Then he ran off in the direction of the voice, 
but there was no person in sight. Neither was there 
track nor trace visible. He examined the ground, the 
leaves, the twigs, even the tree-tops; hut not a sign nor 
indication that any person had ever visited the place. 

Inasmuch as his ears had heard the voice and the 
words, now the question arose was it his bodily ears 


129 

or liis spiritual ears that heard the command. He 
even thought his overwrought nerves might have de- 
ceived him, just as his imagination was always doing. 
Finally he concluded it must have been some kind of 
occult spiritual method of communication. He dal- 
lied and flirted with his temptation. He argued and 
reasoned and sometimes chose inclination as umpire. 
It was his first great spiritual battle. His conscience 
and moral sense of right resisted the fierce onslaught 
of nature and instinct. After a long and weary strug- 
gle instinct and inclination accepted a truce till the 
next evening, when the voice promised to reveal what 
he should do. 

Having decided to wait, instinct and nature, like an 
artful enemy, went on with greater vigor, preparing 
for future assaults. 

Poor John went slowly and sorrowfully back toward 
the lower pool, where he filled his canteen and waited 
for darkness. He felt a great desire to sleep again on 
the terrace, to listen and observe. He wanted to hear, 
if possible, how, when and which direction these men 
would travel. He might follow them at a distance 
and thus he able to find his way out of the wilderness. 

He did not ascend the terrace till long after dark. 
All was quiet at the Castle; not a sign nor a sound to 
tell that it was ever inhabited. 


CHAPTEE X. 


Xext morning tlie men were active and early. John 
remained concealed beneath his grassy lookout, beside 
his rocky embrasure. He had chosen his position 
carefully. The lords of the Castle had cap- 
tured a number of turkeys and were cooking them 
over an open wood fire down near the pool. The 
Shepherd seemed master of frontier methods. Every- 
thing was well and skillfully arranged. He asked 
Dynamite gruffly, if not tauntingly, where he kept 
that stone bake-oven, of which he had told them so 
boastingly. 

John gasped and trembled; felt hot and cold by 
turns, while chills chased and raced up and down his 
spine. There were still three roast turkeys remaining 
in that oven. Dynamite answered in a careless tone: 
^TPs tumbled down — no good any more.” 

^^But where is it?” persisted the Shepherd, with 
obstinate singleness of purpose. 

‘^‘^Eetired; gone out of business; in the Eands of a 
receiver,” laughingly answered Dynamite. John 
breathed more freely; that danger was averted. 
Meanwhile the scoffing, mocking, laughing Apollo 
whom they called Deacon had hurriedly taken his gun 
and game sack, going off up the canyon. Although 
John listened, he heard no sound of shooting. Xeither 
130 


131 

had he heard all that was said between Dj^nainite and 
the Deacon, who seemed intimate and to have some se- 
cret understanding or plans not shared wholly by the 
others. At least they trusted and assisted each other. 

After a few hours the Deacon returned. His game 
sack was empty. His face had a weary if not troubled 
expression. He raised his hand to the four feasters, 
as if to command silence, saying, with startling abrupt- 
ness: ^‘Here is a pretty kettle of fish. There’s a 
man lurking around here somewhere. I have been 
trailing him all the morning. He may be some mer- 
cenary city detective. He is fool enough to be one 
of those conceited kidlets, but he is not of that ilk. 
He was here before we came — a week or ten days. I 
found where he slept the first night. It was under 
the turkey roost, on a bed of dry grass that he gath- 
ered and carried there. That was more than a week 
ago. He was then very lame; favored his right leg. 
He used a big, long stick for a cane, or staff. How- 
ever, he is now getting over his lameness, for he no 
longer carries a cane. Still, he favors his right leg.” 

Again the cold chills and shivers returned to John 
Martindale with added vigor. He expected the Dea- 
con would soon point out his place of concealment and 
call him down to judgment. 

‘^AYell, that does beat all!” exclaimed Uncle Collis 
in alarm. ^^But you have got him down pat.” 

^^Did you also learn his age, height, weight and color 
■of his hair and eyes?” questioned Dynamite, coolly. 

^^N’ot exactly. Still, I can tell his height to an inch, 
the size of his feet and hands, the length of his coat. 


133 

the make of his shoes, where he is going, whose horse 
bucked him off, the name of the girl he is sweet on 
and a few more items of little interest,’^ said the Dea^ 
con, with positive assurance. 

^^Whew! But you are a trailer. Deacon, and no mis- 
take,” put in Uncle Sam, admiringly, ^^or a marvelous 
mind-reader.” 

^^Say, have you seen the man?” interrupted Uncle 
Oollis, eagerly. 

^^Ueither,” answered the Deacon, defiantly. ^^There 
is where you are off. I simply read the signs he has 
left around here for my enlightenment. I put this 
and that together and complete the whole story. 

‘furthermore, he is not a mature man. He is a 
green, unfledged gosling, with the shell still sticking 
on his hack. He is that college cabbage that was with 
us in the cattle car, with the Unterrified. Blast his 
sickly, shivering hide! He lost us a through trip to 
the coast. He is the cause of more evil than I can 
count on my ten fingers. You needn’t whistle nor 
say ‘Eats!’ I know what I am talking about. I have 
the proof here in black and white. 

“You all know I went down to the Artesian Wells, 
with an eye to the horse department. I found they had 
a discouraging bulldog, who roamed at large in the 
night-time; already fetched down two men. I let out 
the job; went elsewhere. However, I spent the night 
with the cowboys, sleeping in the house and eating 
w'ith them. They were all talking of the sad fate of 
a verdant lover, J ohn Martindale, who was riding with 
the Darlings through to Arizona on his way to Cali- 


133 

fornia. They were all out looking for his body, or 
his maimed, starving, bleeding wreck. They said he 
was a poet, as though that was enough to doom any 
honorable man to perdition. 

^^The Darlings were old friends of the manager and 
he pawed up the dust to please them, or rather the 
sniveling Sunflower, who was clear daft on the lost 
Johnnie-sweet-love. It seems he and Sunflower were 
a pair of turtle doves, billing and cooing and lolli- 
gagging, till the Darling family were glad to escape 
the sickening flood of drool, drivel and soft giggles by 
letting the spoony ones ride on ahead, out of sight and 
hearing. 

‘^Sunflower and Johnnie-sweet-slobber reached the 
Artesian Wells. There was no one at home. How- 
ever, this Sunflower, who is not a bad-looking, freckle- 
nosed, red-headed little animal, went around, woman- 
fashion, peeking and prying and sticking her little 
freckled pug nose into other folks’ business. She 
opened the bulldog’s house without so much as rap- 
ping. He sprung out, knocked her over and showed 
her his fine set of long, sharp teeth. This so fright- 
ened her white-livered lover that he sneaked off and 
left her to her fate, while he rode off to find the cow- 
boys to call off the dog. Away he rode like a fool and 
broke his pony’s neck. 

‘^WHien he came back the girl was not there. He 
ripped and tore and raved and raged, calling names 
and crimes without end. To get rid of the loony fool 
they gave him a bucking broncho. He rode off wildly 
and decently broke his own neck. At least the broncho 


134 

came back next day riderless, with bridle reins flyhig 
in fine shape. Then the girl, Sunflower, took her 
turn at raving and tearing around, weeping till her 
eyes were red as her hair. She kept the whole coun- 
try stirred up and out hunting for the cadaver for five 
days and nights. 

“Then Daddy Darling got on his ear and started oif 
gayly for Arizona, taking the girl along with him, 
weeping and howling and yelling and shrieking back 
to the cowboys to hunt up the b^ones of the dear de- 
parted and plant them down deep in the cold, cold 
ground, I suppose to keep them from doing any more 
deviltry. 

^^Oh, the whole thing was a regular old circus. The 
cowboys just split themselves when they tell how that 
girl escaped the dog and gave her lover the slip. 

‘'You see, it was a hot day, a real old Kansas hot- 
stuff wind. The girl kept quiet. The dog backed off 
into his shady kennel to watch her from out the open 
door; but a frolicsome Kansas zephyr came flirting 
around and slammed the door shut. The girl, who 
is no fool, jumped up and jammed the pin in place, 
fastening up the dog. She mounted her horse and 
rode back like a sensible girl to meet pa and the big 
brothers. Some said she rode off to find the pretty 
poet — the seraph of these sylvan shades.” 

“You don’t mean to tell us that fellow is here,” 
said Dynamite, with a great swell of wonder and in- 
credulity. “Look here. Deacon, it is fully fifty miles 
from here to the Artesian Wells.” 

“Can’t help it. Dynamite. He is here all the same. 


135 

I even trailed that callow kid hack where the broncho 
bucked him off. I could see where he fell sprawling 
and pawing around, plowing up the ground as though 
a meteor had struck the sand. Nor is this all. I have 
other proof that he is here — proof written and signed 
by his own hand. I found this leaf from his diary 
pinned up on a tree with sharp sticks, which fastened 
it to the bark. There were other notices fastened to 
other trees, hut he has since torn them down and scat- 
tered the fragments on the ground, like the sap- 
headed booby that he is. 

^‘Here, one of you boys take this little flyer and 
read what the idiot says to his rescuers.’^ 

Dynamite took the paper, looked at it with care, if 
not interest, then read aloud: 

‘^Mr. Darling, or those who come to my rescue: I 
am in the timber, somewhere near water. I am help- 
less; my leg and head injured. I am hungry, thirsty 
and will soon he starving. The thought of Sun- 
flower’s possible doom is driving me mad. 

MaETINDALE.” 

^TIow is that for proof, for a clincher?” shouted the 
Deacon, triumphantly. ^^Moreover, I saw the imprint 
of his foot and hand down by the lower pool; the 
whole imprint of his tapering Angers where he worked 
around in the slimy ooze, as well as where he laid his 
toothbrush when he combed out his wavy love-locks 
and left a few curly hairs to tell the tale of his dainty 
habits. 

‘^^Now, hoys, what had we better do with the bird of 
ill omen?” continued the Deacon, in a loud, business- 


136 

like tone. ^^Shall we shoot him at sight, round him 
up and force him to join the Lilies of Solomon or 
chain him up in the Castle and leave him there in 
darkness to his well-earned fate?’^ 

Poor John Martindale was cold and tremblipg. In 
imagination he felt himself being rounded up. Aye, 
more. He felt himself tryinp- to dodge the unerring 
balls of their death-dealing guns. But the chilling, 
freezing agony of chains, darkness and starvation 
within the hopeless Castle was almost too much for 
reason to behold, even in fancy. He was so dazed and 
horrified that he let them talk on unheeded. He may 
have fainted. He never knew, save there was a blank 
after that until he heard the clear, penetrating voice 
of Dynamite giving orders and arranging the duties of 
the day. 

The men were busy digging in the bottom of the 
canyon a long, narrow, deep hole in the pebbles and 
gravel. It looked like a grave. Was it meant for 
John Martindale? John felt sure it was meant to 
hide his bones. He imagined how they threw his 
quivering body down in the damp gravel and hurled 
down large stones, then the finer, smaller pebbles and 
smoothed the surface over with gravel. 

Again he saw Dynamite approach the hole and 
suggest some changes as to width and depth. Hncle 
Collis was gathering and bringing in wood. John 
thought they meant to cremate his remains. Then he 
saw the pile of dressed turkeys and an antelope which 
Dynamite had lassoed while it was drinking the night 
before. They filled the pit with small wood. It was 


137 

soon a mass of raging flames, which the Shepherd con- 
tinued to feed with more wood. Other fires were 
built, the big boiler containing a whole ham. They 
were heating great, flat stones in their side fires. Alas, 
poor John! He thought they meant to cover him 
with hot rocks, why and for what reason he could not 
imagine. 

Then the voice of the Shepherd was heard sajdng: 
tell you. Dynamite, we will give you a fine old ban- 
quet and a barbecue thrown in for good measure. 
This pit will cook the whole lot of turkeys and ante- 
lope in fine shape.’^ 

Dynamite answered with a grand mock tragic voice: 
^^This one day is sacred to my greatness; to me and my 
banquet. No skeletons at my feast, if you please. 
Let the wandering cherub alone for this my ban- 
queting day, my festival. To-night it will be revealed 
what is to l3e done. So let the black mare rest to- 
day, for the night comes when the good men are 
feasting.” 

At these words John became soothed, if not wholly 
reassured. Some way he felt sure, almost certain 
that Dynamite, if not the Deacon, knew where he was 
concealed; one talking to terrify and torment, Avhile 
the other gave him a timely hint AAdien and how to flee. 

He crawled backward Avithin the friendly Avails of 
the alcove, shook off the dry grass and rose to his 
feet. He Avas hungry and Avet AAith cold SAveat. He 
was not aAA^are of the great mental strain he had passed 
through. Noav it AA^as all over and he felt like laugh- 
ing at his unruly imagination. 


138 

He wondered at his owni bodily timidity, for his 
mind, his soul or spirit was bold, defiant, even aggres- 
sive. John did not know, understand himself; nor is 
this strange; few people do. John’s will power was 
not strong enough to grapple his quivering body 
and force it to walk forth defiantly and say to the 
Lilies of Solomon: ‘Hlere I am. Here is John Mar- 
ti ndale. Work your will. Do as you like. Do as 
you think right by me.” 

Ho; he could not do this. Instinct would not let 
him rush out into needless danger. For some long, 
dreary hours John sat in self-abasement and self-con- 
flict. However, through all there were mingled some 
radiant, blissful thoughts. 

Sunflovv'er was safe. Sunflower had wept. Sun- 
flower had sought for him. Sunflower had mourned 
and grieved when she thought him mangled, dying 
and alone. Such sweet, rapturous thoughts could 
compensate for a world of bitterness. That the Dar- 
lings were on the road, to Arizona made it impossible 
for him to join them. He would start alone; go as 
soon as darkness would let him leave the terrace. He 
became calmer after he had decided his future course. 

Again he turned his attention to the men in the can- 
yon below. He crawled out cautiously where he could 
look down and see as well as hear. Dynamite was 
there, the center of all activity and attention, whom 
all delighted to honor — a benefactor and a possible 
milch cow for future use. Human nature moves 
along the same old lines. Eobbers or rulers, preach- 
ers or the public, the exceptions are few. 


139 

When Dynamite spoke all others were silent. They 
listened with interest, if not with absolute servility. 
Even John Martindale looked upon him without 
loathing or moral rancor. Notwithstanding this 
small-world homage, Dynamite remained cool and 
unmoved. lie was telling them he must have four 
hours alone in the Castle to get out the money, ready 
to give each his twenty thousand dollars. At three 
o’clock he would come out by the pool and give each 
what he promised, together with a lot of watches and 
jewelry for them to raffle among themselves. 

The men were willing he should go, and go alone. 
Besides, he handed them out a bottle of Old Bourbon 
to drink his health and happiness. He went into the 
Castle and closed the lower door, as well as the tunnel 
side door. 

In the meantime the men were busy preparing for 
the banquet. They suggested a band of music and a 
street parade, but decided that such frills might please 
women and children, but as these were absent they 
would omit this part of the usual programme. But 
they resolved that the barbecued turkeys and antelope 
should be a success, as well as the plum pudding and 
fancy fixings that the Shepherd was evolving from 
their ample stores — a function worthy of the honored 
guest. 

No one came near the terrace. This w^as encour- 
aging. John seemed to share the joy of the men be- 
low. They were merry, but not intoxicated. They 
often glanced up at the sun to learn if it was nearing 
three o’clock. At half-past two Dynamite came to the 


140 

mouth of the tunnel and called down to the men. He 
told them he had found everything in good order — 
far better than he expected. He took out his watch, 
telling them the time. He suggested to them that 
they had better water the horses and picket them 
around near the old buffalo trail, in that bit of fresh 
grass, as they would be too busy raffling off the 
watches and spreading the banquet to fool around 
■with horses after three o’clock. 

At this Uncle Sam and Uncle Collis started off on 
the run to lead the horses down to water, while the 
Deacon and the Shepherd continued the preparations 
for the great banquet. They covered up the roasting 
meals; they looked after the baking and boiling, 
punching up the fire and adding fuel. 

At three o’clock to the minute Dynamite came out 
from the lower door, bringing four small parcels over 
his arm. John noticed he was in his shirt sleeves, as 
though he had been working hard in a warm place. 
Another glance told him the shirt was a new woolen 
one, different from the one he wore when he went 
into the Castle. John thought he must have changed 
in honor of the banquet. 

Dynamite, smiling, told the boys to fall into line, 
which they did in the best of humor. He handed 
each a package, telling them to count and see if the 
amount was correct. All answered in the affirmative 
save Uncle Collis, who counted and recounted his 
money several times, shaking his head doubtfully and 
going over the bills again. At length he said, sadly: 


141 

“I don’t know, but I think I am ont a thousand dol- 
lars. Here, Dynamite, you count it yourself and see.’’ 

Dynamite waved the package back, telling Uncle 
Colhs to look down between his shirt and pants for it, 
as he saw it slip in there while he was shuffling over 
the bills. Uncle Collis fished out the bills and seemed 
greatly surprised to find them down there, yet had tact 
to pass it off as his own blundering carelessness. They 
were all too self-absorbed to give much heed to Uncle 
Collis. His attempted cheat passed without much 
comment. 

Thanks, cheers, hurrahs, handshakings and some- 
thing that looked very much like hugs and kisses fol- 
lowed in rapid succession. 

When the tumult subsided Dynamite gushingly told 
them to all go up in the third story of the Castle, 
where they would find on the stone table a half -bushel 
of gold watches, rings, bracelets and breastpins, which 
they were to divide among themselves by raffling or 
throwing dice. With a whoop and yell they all rushed 
off toward the Castle door, while Dynamite shouted, 
saying: “Call me when you are through. I want to 
see who scoops in the pile. I will take a walk, a little 
stroll off through the timber, and see what that kid is 
doing and pick some flowers for the table.” 

But the men disappeared before he finished speak- 
ing. As the last one ascended the inner ladder Dyna- 
mite rushed up to the Castle door, hurled out a pile of 
things, then pushed the door shut, rolling three large 
stones up against it. 

Then he ran swiftly across to the terrace and tossed 


142 

up a pebble, saying in a half-wliisper: ^^Hello, there, 
John Martindale. Now is your time. Come on.’^ 

John sprung to his feet and looked down into the 
face of Dynamite, the tramp who had torn olf his last 
shirt for rags to bind up John’s blistered feet in the 
cattle ear. One glance into his face was enough. 
John trusted him utterly. Instinct told him to trust 
himself to the guidance of this outlaw. 

Dynamite understood the glance, for he said, smil- 
ing: “Jump; I will catch you.” John obeyed with- 
out question. 

“There, take that saddle, bridle, roll of blankets and 
bag of crackers and come with me.” 

But what astonished John was to see Dynamite 
yank the hot, boiling ham from the kettle and drop 
a raw ham in its place, wrapping the hot ham in a 
flour sack, while he caught up a coat, hat and a num- 
ber of canteens, which he plunged down in the pool 
and filled. He passed John before they were at the 
top of the buffalo run. 

“What, are you going with me?” asked John in an 
excited whisper. 

“Yes; it seems so,” answered Dynamite, calmly. 

“But the banquet,” exclaimed John in wonder. 

“That is my one opportunity. I have been making 
up my pack and carrying things around near the old 
trail for the last three hours.” 

When they reached the horses John was told to 
gear up the black mare for himself, while Dynamite 
led a stocky little broncho around where the pack 
saddle was concealed. It was quickly fastened on the 


143 

pack poii}^ which was led up h}^ another nervy 
broncho, which he saddled and made ready to mount 
by the time John had the black mare ready to ride. 

Mounting, they rode off westward at a moderate 
pace. They were soon beyond the range of vision 
from the timber, as the land was rolling and Dynamite 
chose the route. The pack horse was led by Dyna- 
mite, who directed John to ride fully a quarter of a 
mile to his right, thus making a separate trail, as 
though they were not comrades, nor riding together, 
nor in any way associated. 

John could not see any reason for all these precau- 
tions. Nevertheless he rode as directed, silently 
munching crackers, as he was told to help himself, 
which he did with a generous hand. 

On, on, over rolling sand plains, which looked 
without landmarks in their weary sameness; some- 
times crossing dried-up streams or waterless creek 
beds. Always apart, yet always going in the same 
general westward direction. 

John was puzzled. What did it all mean? Why 
give the men, of his own free will, a large sum of 
money; then run away in the very midst, as it were, 
of a banquet given in his honor? 

He made up his mind to ask Dynamite the first 
chance he had, as he was curious to learn the reason 
for an act so unreasonable. 

John was so elated and light-hearted he seemed to 
himself to be floating or flying through the air, away 
from gloom, dread and despondency. That Sun- 
flower was safe and he himself on his way to California 


144 

was joy enough for one day, but to ride the beautiful 
black and have a bag of Boston crackers was to fill the 
cup of gladness to overfiowing. For the first time 
since his mother’s death he whistled or sung softly to 
himself, by way of vent to his pent-up happiness. 

As evening and darkness came on Dynamite rode 
over toward John and rode beside him along a stony 
ledge or bluff. They rode slower, as if to rest the 
horses, for they had been riding the last three hours 
at a wearying pace. Dynamite proved to be a good 
traveling companion, familiar with the whole sur- 
rounding country, besides being quick-witted, pleas- 
ant and overfiowing with dry Yankee humor. They 
were to ride all night, with but one halt, by a spring, 
to water the horses and let them eat a few bites of 
grass. The sky was clear and the night pleasant. The 
stars and new moon made riding safe and sure, for 
they were following an old trail during the night-time. 
For a long time they talked on subjects that were of 
no especial interest to either, after the order of society 
jabber-words, sounds and sentences — neutral noth- 
ings. John was consuming with curiosity to learn 
why Dynamite came with him instead of waiting for 
his late comrades. But Dynamite diverted and 
evaded for awhile by saying, good-humoredly: ^^So 
the Black was a temptation, a terrible temptation?” 

^^Yes, indeed. I was tempted almost beyond my 
powers of resistance. But do tell me, were you up 
a tree ? Where were you ? How could you hear me ?” 

“Easy enough. I never lost sight of you after you 
left the terrace till you went back, after dark, and as 


145 

for hearing what you said, that was no great thing for 
me to do. You yelled loud enough to wake the dead, 
or he heard up in heaven, or something of that sort. 
Pity if I, being alive and here in the timber, should 
not hear as much as the dead. Did you really expert 
your mother in heaven to hear your shout? Did you 
expect her to yell down and tell you what to do?” 

^‘1 was troubled and tempted to sin; tempted be- 
yond anything I had thought possible. I may have 
been silly, but I was trying to seek guidance,” said 
J ohn, with meek contrition. 

‘^Yow, honest Indian, who did you think it was 
who answered your call to the dead in heaven?” asked 
Dynamite, with evident interest. 

‘‘I certainly did not think it a disembodied spirit 
nor a living person, but some sort of spiritual sug- 
gestion or sympathetic illusion.” 

‘^^Yow I am sorry,” declared Dynamite, laughing, 
‘^that I let out the joke, for you could have told your 
red-headed grandsons of the marvelous voice from the 
sky, that promised to send you deliverance. Now, of 
course, the story is spoiled for future use.” 

^‘Oh, no; it is better as it is. It shows how easy it is 
to fool a fool,” exclaimed John, in self-disgust. ^^But 
I am glad you played the trick on me, as it has given 
me great niental comfort, if not spiritual support.” 

^Tiddle!” snorted Dynamite, in mild contempt for 
all such spiritual weaknesses. ^^You will some day 
cut your eyeteeth and come up all right.” 

hope so. I seem in a fair way for passing over 
the teething period. But do tell me— I am dying to 


146 

know wliy you go now to take me over the plains 
instead of waiting to go with the others, your old and 
tried comrades?’^ 

^^Take you through?’^ ejaculated Dynamite, in 
scornful astonishment. “Why, bless your infantile 
soul, you are taking me through. I might as well tell 
you the whole truth, as you will never guess it nor 
give up trying to find out. Eeally I can’t tell why I 
am going with you instead of with them. It was an 
impulse, an inspiration, or call it v'hat you like — in- 
stinct, inner consciousness, or sixth sense. It was 
something that told me to go with you and give them 
the slip. You heard me offer to give the hoys money 
for a fair race in life. I did that because I felt it my 
duty as a Lily of Solomon to help my brethren ac- 
cording to my means. I was a bigger fool than 
Thompson’s colt not to wait till I was well out of that 
neck of timber before I gave them a hint of the treas- 
ure of the Castle. I judged them by myself. That 
won’t work on everybody. The greater can measure 
the less, but the less can never measure or understand 
the greater. I can tell you one thing. I saw a glitter 
in Uncle Collis’ greedy eye that told my instinct to 
%it,’ and I ^got.’ That is reason enough for me. 
Why, boy, that glitter told my blundering, body- 
weighted soul that my hide was spoken for and the 
tan-vat ready. That light, that flash, that gleam, that 
glitter in Uncle Collis’ eye, meant knife in the back 
or a bullet in the heart.” 

“But I am a stranger. Dare you go with me?” said 
John, in wonder. 


147 

^*It seems so,” replied D3mamite, carelessly. “Yet 
I must tell 3^011 one thing,” continued the ex-safe- 
opener. “That turkey stratagem of yours was a weak, 
lame, faulty affair. Turkeys don’t act that way this 
time of the year, flopping and falling and tumbling 
around. I saw your face and knew you at a glance. 
Further, I knew you had heard more than was safe for 
you if any one but the Deacon and I knew of your 
presence.” 

“Did the Deacon know I was on the terrace ?” 

“Yes. We were both afraid you would make your- 
self knoAvn and thus get mixed up with our gang in 
case we were followed. Now, 3^011 may wonder why 
I gave you the best horse, my own Black. I will tell 
you. She is mine, for I bought her. All the other 
horses are swipes. You are not to be found on one 
of them. It would not be conducive to longevity. 
You shall not suffer for our slips and trips. You 
notice I gave you a large roll of blankets. In them is 
a new suit of clothes; also socks and shirts. I may 
have forgotten some things, but I put in my time. 
I can tell you that much without lying.” 

“It is too bad you came off and left all that money 
in the Castle. The Deacon or Uncle Collis may blow 
up the whole cliff and And the money.” 

“Oh, no; I guess not,” remarked the Lily of Solo- 
mon, with innocent unconcern, as he touched his pony 
with the spur. They were increasing their speed, as 
the country was level and the sand and air growing 
cooler. On, on and on, hour after hour; Dynamite 
always certain of the way and often turning and 


148 

doubling, as if to make tlieir trail blind and hard to 
follow. Once during the night they halted by a sul- 
phur spring, letting the horses drink and eat grass for 
a few minutes, while they lunched on boiled ham and 
crackers. 

Again toward morning they stopped awhile, as 
Dynamite dismounted and examined the road they 
were traveling. He seemed intent and unusually so- 
licitous. Having completed his examination he 
remounted, saying cheerily: “All right; all right. 
There have been teams and horsemen along here 
recently. Others may come this way to-morrow and 
cover up our trail.’^ 

“Our trail repeated John in amazement. “Who 
on earth could find our tracks, or who would want to 
find them? I am sure no one could possibly follow 
us.” 

“I could,” declared Dynamite, coldly, “and so could 
the Deacon, and not half try. So could that Judas 
of an Uncle Collis. However, we shall have a good 
ninety miles start of any of them, for they would not 
get through raffling till after dark; then they could 
not follow us till daylight. Anyhow, you are all right 
on the Black, so long as you carry nothing that looks 
valuable.” 

“Are we in danger of pursuit or of robbers?” asked 
John, not without nervousness. 

“Ho; not exactly that,” answered Dynamite, slowly 
and with moderate certainty. “Hot if you have the 
grit, sand, courage and desire to serve one who is will- 
ing and anxious to serve you. I do not ask you to 


149 

sacrifice yourself to my interest. All I need is a lit^ 
tie artifice and some cool, straightforward, business- 
like lying. You can call it tact, fibbing, white bes, 
evasion or sharp business methods, or any other name 
that quiets your timid, skittish conscience. I have 
sworn the oath of the Brotherhood, if I get out of this 
one complication, to leave the old exciting life for- 
ever. I am on my way to join my brothers. I used 
to think an honest life of labor tame and unworthy 
of a man of spirit; altogether fiat, insipid and unbear- 
ably dull. But I have changed my mind, or rather 
my mind has changed me. Somehow things don’t 
look to me just as they used to. I don’t know what is 
the matter with me. The change commenced one 
rainy night, on hearing a Salvation Army man, stand- '• 
ing on the muddy street, dripping wet, pleading and 
beseeching us mocking devils to turn from evil and 
evil-doing and become good men. Things began to 
look funny and queer and have been growing worse 
ever since — more muddled and mixed up. I am no 
saint myself. I only wish I were. That is more than 
I used to care for. Yes, I have left the old life be- 
hind, but somehow the old life seems bent on follow- 
ing me. Yow I want you to help me escape from it 
forever.” 

am at your service, heart and soul,” answered 
John, with hearty promptness. 

^^Very well. I trust you and you may trust me or 
not; that is for you to decide for yourself. I am now 
on my way to San Francisco to join my brothers. I 
have with me more than a million dollars, most of it 


150 

in high denomination greenbacks, few less than five 
hundred dollars; mostly thousands, and also some 
government bonds that belonged to our highly re-, 
spectahle father, who was an eastern hanker. They 
were bought with deposits — money earned perhaps by 
depositors; at least earned by others. You know such 
funds are called brain-money, earned by brain-work- 
ers. They work others and pocket the proceeds. 
Yes, brain-money sounds better than toil-money, or 
blood-money, or hell-money! True, I have money 
with me that is tainted with every taint on earth save 
the one smell of honest sweat of labor; altogether a 
pile of social carrion. I thought perhaps if I gave the 
boys some of it the accursed smell of sulphur might 
go out of the remainder. I warn you, it is a dirty, un- 
clean, putrid, corrupt, unholy mass of godless plunder 
as ever smeared the hand of an honest man. But we 
are in for it, because it seems a good thing to have. 
It is earthly enrichment, like the matter we give back 
to Mother Earth to coax her to be more bountiful at 
harvest time; of itself not sweet nor overly fragrant, 
but something that is needed and has its use. 

“^^Yow, boy, of this unsavory load of social fertilizer; 
you carry behind you, wrapped in your blankets, an 
old, false-bottomed carpet bag, containing a quarter 
of a million dollars, for you to deliver at the Palace 
hotel, San Francisco, to the Arlington brothers. The 
full instruction is written on the wrappers of each 
package. The money is all in thousand-dollar green- 
backs.” 

^Tndeed you astonish me. Why do you trust me. 


151 

a stranger, to carry this money, instead of entrusting 
it to some of your own comrades, the Lilies of Solo- 
mon T’ 

^^Boy, yon make me laugh; yon are so funny. Why 
doesn^t the mamma mouse go to the cat and ask her to 
come in and tend the baby mice? Why doesn’t the 
hen turkey ask the coyote to come and hover the 
young turks while she goes off flirting with the strut- 
ting, spreading gobblers? 

^'1 can tell you, hoy. Instinct, intuition, hold their 
own, neck to neck, with reason. Instinct tells me to 
trust you and it does not tell me to trust them to any 
alarming extent.” 

^‘^It is a great trust you have given me,” said John, 
almost sadly. ^^Nevertheless I will do my best. You 
are leading me out of the wilderness and if I can help 
you out of that other kind of barren, hopeless desert 
I am at your service and give you my hand without 
question or thought of reward.” 

‘^Bully for you, my chick of a cherub! I thought 
you would wince and frisk and champ the bit a little 
before you consented to go alone like a sensible car- 
rier.” 

“I accept your trust. I shall act as your messen- 
ger. I will deliver the contents of the false bottom 
of that carpet bag if it is a human possibility. You 
do well to trust a Martindale. They are forever faith- 
ful, even unto death.” 

wish I might say the same of the foxy, high- 
toned Arlingtons, who are truly and fairly represented 


152 

in Dynamite, the safe-opener,” said the other, bit- 
terly. 

The darkness melted into light, the snn rose and 
the forenoon had almost gone when they arrived at a 
clump of timber where there was a spring of fresh 
water. They picketed and unsaddled the horses for 
a few hours’ rest. The grass was fine and the shade 
cool and delightful. They ate a cold lunch, as Dyna- 
mite was too cautions and prudent to build a fire, for 
the smoke to reveal the whereabouts of men. In all 
their long ride they had not passed a single habita- 
tion of man; neither had they seen one person. Still, 
Dynamite was alert and watchful. He wanted to 
avoid and escape from the eyes of men, for he had 
reason to be doubly crafty and strategic. 

He told John after lunch to go on over the bluH 
and there picket the Black, taking the saddle and 
large roll of blankets containing the $250,000. He 
unrolled the blankets, looked at the suit of clothes 
and the old, ragged, frayed carpet bag, without lock, 
fastened by two common clasps; but the money was 
not visible; neither did he make any effort to see or 
find its place of concealment. It was there and that 
was enough for him to know. 

He wrapped himself in the blankets, putting the 
old carpet bag under his left arm, and was soon sleep- 
ing soundly. 

About five o’clock he was awakened by Dynamite, 
who was shaking him gently, telling him it was time 
to be riding. The horses were saddled and ready to 
start. John jumped to his feet and looked around in 


153 

nervous confusion. He had slept so soundly that it 
took him some time to recall his surroundings. 

They rode on all through the night at a more 
moderate pace, stopping hut once to rest the tired 
animals. They did not reach water till long after 
noon. The horses were suffering for water and rest. 
But the water was not the coolest nor sweetest; yet it 
was welcome to both men and horses. As there were 
timber, shade and grass, they would give the horses 
and themselves a longer rest. Again they ate a cold 
lunch and were getting ready to separate for the night, 
as Dynamite seemed determined not to have John 
found in his company. If anything happened he 
wanted John to be counted out. He took the .old 
carpet bag, opened the false bottom and showed John 
the bills, explaining the fastenings, springs and screw- 
heads, as well as the whole false lining. John found 
himself deeply interested in the deceitful old carpet 
bag and in the whole game of evasion and deception. 
He felt himself a carrier, a messenger, a courier, hur- 
rying through a wild and dangerous country. This 
appealed to his poetic, romantic nature and excited 
his imaginative enthusiasm. The contents of the 
pack saddle were much to his liking. Clean socks 
and shirts he could appreciate. They spoke to his 
dainty, sesthetic nature, but cash money, the com- 
mon, vulgar substitute for barter, the medium of 
exchange, was nothing more to him than savage shells 
and wampum. That men should sacrifice the quiet 
comforts of life, liberty and honor for the possession 
of such trash was to him an unknown, unfelt tempta- 


154 

tion. While clean socks and clean shirts might be 
tempting, yet money as money was not. To him 
money v/as a convenience in trade, a quick method of 
barter, worthless in and of itself. A canteen of water 
on the desert was of more value to a thirsty man 
than any amount of red gold or green printed paper. 
John’s education had been faulty. He had never 
been taught to venerate money or sell his soul for it. 
But clean, whole garments spoke a language that his 
soul understood. 

He was somewhat slow in leading the Black off by 
herself. Perhaps D^mamite saw something wistful 
in his eye, for he said, almost tenderly: “What is it, 
cherub 

“How could you, having so much ready money, 
find heart to rob a poor country storekeeper of his 
goods and safe, as well as poor, hard-working home- 
steaders of their stock horses?” 

“That’s a square question, put right to the point,” 
answered Dynamite, without confusion. “Looking at 
it in that light the whole job was a mean, shabby, 
dirty piece of work, even if we didn’t get much for 
our trouble. The horses were wild, unbroken bron- 
chos when we lassoed them, but the Deacon broke 
them in no time. 

“Would it make you think better of me if I should 
tell you that store job was mostly Uncle Collis’ work? 
He would steal if he had money to burn. It was born 
in him. I was flush, for I had come down here alone 
and taken a few hundred back with me. We were all 
having a good time. The Deacon and I were camp- 


155 

ing together and the three otheis were staying about 
town. They wanted a little excitement. It is like 
love or war, something to stir the blood and make 
one forget how mean he really is. I tell yon this not 
to excuse myself, as I knew nothing of the affair till 
one night Uncle Collis, Uncle Sam and the Shepherd 
came yelling and dashing up to onr tent with that 
wagon loaded with goods, safe and any other kind of 
plunder. If yon will believe me, there was a plow and 
a hog yoke in the lot. They came to ns to help them 
hide the boodle. I said: ^Uo; we can’t hide it here. 
But come with me, boys, down to the Castle. There 
yon can hide a shipload of plunder.’ Yon see, the old 
train-robbing excitement was on me in a minute, like 
a horse that has once run on the fire engine. I was 
up and on the run at the word Tlo.’ 

^^The Deacon saddled our lot of horses and we were 
on the way to the Castle in three minutes. I had 
owned the Black for some weeks. Now I have told 
you my part in the affair. The Deacon is a good fel- 
low, a rich man’s son, who joined our Brotherhood 
because it suited his wild, roving, liberty-loving, rest- 
less fancy. He had some little scrap back east. I 
think he Idlled an aristocrat who wronged a pretty 
waiter girl by drugging her ice cream and leading her 
off to a place where she was detained for weeks. The 
fool boasted of his part in the affair and the Deacon 
struck him in the neck, dead. Bather than stand a 
trial he lit out and we left him at the Castle. 

^^He will reach the coast before we do; that is, if 


156 

Uncle Collis does not take a hankering for his twenty 
thousand dollars.” 

^^Unele Collis is greedy beyond the greed of com- 
mon men,” asserted John, with mild severity. 

^‘Mayhe; perhaps so,” agreed Dynamite, without 
passion or much condemnation. “He inherited the 
greedy, begging mania. His father was an ambitious 
preacher, building a fine church in a poor commu- 
nity, begging and scheming and coveting more, more, 
more, while the summer he was born his mother was 
running four or five money-swiping societies, always 
begging and crying: Uive, give, give.’ 

“When Uncle Collis was born he was just a little, 
quivering, red, skinii}^ bundle of greed. He began 
when he was an hour old, trying to suck every one he 
came near, turning his little, greedy mouth from side 
to side, smacking his lips and sticking out his little 
doubled-up tongue, ready to catch hold. Before he 
was ten months old he sucked the life out of his 
mother. When he was a toddler his father had to 
watch him or he would have filled the house with his 
infantile plunder. At seven he would steal hitching 
posts, gates, and bricks off the neighbors’ chimneys. 
At ten he was a burglar; at fifteen a highwayman. 
He told me this himself. You can believe it or not. 
I have only his word for it. You ought to hear him 
tell how he used to suck when he was a baby; just 
stuff himself almost to bursting; then vomit it up and 
go at the same thing over again and again!” 

“That is a hard story,” said John, gloomily. 


CHAPTEE XI. 


Ten days they had hastened on westward. The 
horses were growing thin and the riders looked weary, 
if not gaunt and haggard. The evening of the tenth 
day they reached a clump of pines, willows and cot- 
tonwood, growing along a small stream of warm, im- 
pure water. John tasted the water and shook his 
head in disgust. At this Dynamite laughed and told 
him to take his canteen and go down stream, below 
the big rock, and see if there were any signs of springs 
among the rocks. John went as directed. He 
shouted to Dynamite to come down and drink, as the 
water there was cool and free from had taste of min- 
erals of any land. But Dynamite had other cares 
besides running off to look at a spring that he had 
often visited. 

John filled the canteen and brought it to him. He 
drank hastily, sa5ring to John in a constrained voice: 
^^Seraph, I have made a discovery. We are followed 
by some one camping on our trail.^^ 

John could not believe it possible. He thought of 
his own treacherous imagination and tried to convince 
Dynamite that he was deceiving himself by taking 
shadows for realities, as he himself was prone to do. 
Moreover, John declared it was impossible for any one 
to follow them hundreds of miles through sands, 
157 


158 

across plains, deserts and the nninhahited wilderness. 
Dynamite’s answer was handing him a fine field glass, 
telling him to ascend the highest hill, climb a certain 
pine tree and look back over their trail carefully as 
far as the point of timber where he wanted to stop for 
the night. John was lithe and, greatly excited, soon 
he was up among the topmost branches of the pine, 
looking back eastward. 

D3mamite stood silently beneath the tree waiting 
to hear what John might report. At length he 
shouted down: ^^Yes, sir; there are two men at the 
point; they will camp there. One man is working 
around the camp. The other is out examining the 
road, as if looking for our trail. He is walking 
around, much stooped over. There, he raised up. 
He looks for all the world just like Uncle Collis! The 
one cooking and fixing the fire is indeed like Uncle 
Sam. I can see the horses. They are grazing. They 
are not those from the Castle,” added John slowly. 

^‘Uo,” responded Dynamite, calmly. ‘‘They must 
have changed often to overtake us so soon. Come 
down. Cherub. I have work for to-night; but we will 
eat as usual. This is a good camping ground — water, 
wood and grass. They think I have not discovered 
them, but I saw them yesterday. I did not like to 
worry you. I have been trying to give them the slip. 
I failed. How, pile on the brush and make a huge 
smoke, so they will think we are off guard. Skin the 
grouse and cook them all. I shot so many to-day I 
thought you would mistrust something was up. I 
shot to make them think I was not fearing pursuit.” 


159 

Dynamite was active, alert and full of resources 
and strategems. All through the journey he had 
been cook, packer, guide and sentinel. He seemed to 
sleep little; yet never complained of fatigue. Such 
energy, accuracy, vigilance and punctuality were 
worthy of a better cause. Even confiding, gullible 
John Martindale grew cautious, if not suspicious, 
under his instruction. But to-night was a crisis, a 
time to test the latent powers of the future statesman. 
What had been a vague possibility was now an absolute 
certainty. Uncle Collis meant business. Ho million 
dollars went unguarded, roving around the desert, 
without giving him toll; not if he knew it. He was 
doubtless prepared for each and every emergency. 
There were plenty of arms and ammunition stored up 
in the Castle. He could choose the best. The night 
would not pass without a visit from him and his com- 
panion. 

Dynamite was not slow to act in any critical situa- 
tion. His mind was swift and its conclusion reliable. 
He would slip off alone as soon as darkness would 
cover his flight, ride to Flagstaff and take the cars for 
San Francisco. While John was caring for the horses 
and cooking supper Dynamite was making his hasty 
preparations. He opened the pack saddle, taking out 
a grip and pair of well-filled saddle bags. He changed 
his clothes, putting on a new suit and a soft felt hat. 

John was to stay in camp a day or so and tell those 
business-like fibs in case Uncle Collis called. Dyna- 
mite gave John minute directions what to do and 
what not to do. He cautioned him repeatedly not to 


160 

look at his old carpet bag nervously, nor show the 
least care or solicitude if any one touched it or even 
opened it to look at his shirts and toilet articles. He 
explained to John the whole situation. He told him 
he should carry the $750,000 away with him, leaving 
John to carry the $350,000 when he had sent Uncle 
Collis off on the wrong trail. 

John was directed to build a large brush and log 
fire, as if to drive off the mosquitoes, which were nu- 
merous and troublesome; then make a dummy from 
out the cast-off clothing of Dynamite and place its 
head on his saddle, with his hat over the dummy’s 
face, placing the apparently sleeping figure not very 
far from the fire; near enough for the fire to show 
where it was lying. This figure John was to nurse, 
as if Dynamite was sick in camp for a day or two; 
then take the Black and the pack pony and go on west- 
ward alone. 

John was willing to do anything to serve one who 
had aided him in his peril and adverse fortune. On 
one point Dynamite was earnest and emphatic in his 
commands. John was to find some secret place of 
concealment for himself to sleep, far from the fire and 
the firelight. John was not to be found in the night 
b}^ possible assassins. 

After Dynamite’s broncho was saddled and ready 
for an all-night run he handed John a pocketbook, a 
gold watch and a compass, also giving him the Black 
and the pack horse and contents of the pack and pack 
saddle, saying carelessly they were no use to him, as 
he would reach the cars next forenoon if the broncho 


161 

stood up under the pressure. John noticed he left 
the best saddle for him to ride, taking himself the one 
John had been riding. Again he told John what to 
say and do in case Uncle Collis came in the daytime 
into camp. 

John promised to hold his own with any Uncle Col- 
lis if the thing could be done by a few evasive half- 
truths. Dynamite told John he was going down 
toward Mexico on business, to he away a day or two. 
John was waiting his return. The dummy was his 
company, to cheat his lonesomeness. This story he 
was simply to repeat to Uncle Collis if he visited the 
camp openly. 

Xear the camp was a trail going south, as well as 
one going toward the west. Each was traveled more 
or less frequently. When it grew dark Dynamite 
mounted and rode south, while John saw him disap- 
pear in the dim. darkness. Soon he returned, hack- 
ing his broncho slowly. When he came near John 
he said quickly, as if fearing John would refuse the 
gift: ‘^Tn that pocketbook is a card. When you get 
to the Palace hotel give that to the hotel clerk. There 
is also in that pocketbook two five hundred-dollar 
hills to help you hunt up your brother. They are 
yours — a little present from me. You better rip open 
the right watch pocket of your vest and slip the bills 
down in your vest lining. They are wrapped in oil- 
silk and there is a safety pin on the silk for you to pin 
it blindly into the interlining. Good-bye till we meet 
again. 


162 

With a bound the pony fled westward into the dark- 
ness. 

John flew around to complete the dummy, which 
Dynamite had partly made, as if to give John an 
idea of what was needed. The dummy appealed to 
his artistic nature. He shaped the head and neck out 
of the sack of flour, tying a red silk handkerchief 
around the neck, like a cowboy, just as Dynamite had 
worn it riding over the waste of sands. The body 
was made from the contents of the pack, around 
which he buttoned the coat and vest. The socks and 
cast-off trousers, stuffed with grass, completed the 
anatomy, which, wrapped in a blanket, with hat over 
the face, would have deceived the naked eye, much 
more a fleld glass. 

John was delighted with his success. Moreover, 
he felt a sort of companionship in its presence. He 
would walk up to it often, as if to feel its pulse or give 
it a cup of water. He entered into the spirit of the 
deceit with enthusiasm, if not with wickedness. 

Soon the night grew dark and dismal. To John’s 
excited imagination the darkness seemed fllled with 
lurking forms of evil. He shrank back and away 
from the light of the great, blazing brush heap. He 
went out to the horses and moved them farther apart 
and lower down the stream. He was possessed and 
oppressed by a haunting sense of personal danger. 
Moreover, his fertile fancy peopled the darkness witii 
hundreds of crouching TJncle Collises and leering, 
sneaking Uncle Sams. 

The coyotes had an aggressive, ominous howl, 


163 

while owls and nighthawks added notes of ill-omened 
torment. Meantime the mosquitoes were not idle 
nor few in number. 

Nothing seemed friendly or reassuring. Never- 
theless J ohn had put his hand to the plow and he was 
going on even to the end. He forced his trembling 
hands to gather up branches and bits of logs and bark 
and carry them onto the fire. He picked up every- 
thing that would burn and kept the great fire 
a-blazing. He even went up to the dummy as though 
talking with the sick man. Carelessly turning he 
picked up his roll of blankets and tossed them oft' into 
the darker shadows. He then sauntered off leisurely 
into the shadows. Catching up the blankets contain- 
ing the old carpet bag he hurried off into the dark- 
ness and the dense willows and pines. Sleep was im- 
possible. Phantoms, shades and forms of horror 
seemed to hover and swoop down and around him. 
In the dark, dense thicket he came to a low-leaning 
willow of large size. He drew himself up on the tree, 
crawling slowly along up its sloping body till he 
reached the many large, spreading branches. He 
found a good seat among the many limbs and over- 
hanging foliage. With his bundle across his knees 
he leaned back against the forked branches to rest 
or conjure up forms of hideous mockery. At times 
he may have become drowsy or even fallen asleep; still, 
the consciousness of danger never left him for an 
instant. 

From his high perch he could look over, down by 
the fire and see the gray outlines of the dummy. At 


164 

length the fire ceased to blaze. . The coals and embers 
emitted a dim, faint glow. The dummy was par- 
tially visible. John saw, or fancied he saw, a gliding, 
crouching, stealthy figure of human shape slowly ap- 
proaching the dummy. It leaned over the seeming 
sleeper. A breeze fanned the fire and a flame shot 
up for an instant and lighted the crouching visitant. 
It seemed twice to raise its arm and strike downward. 
There was a gleam, a flash of bright steel; but the 
glance was fleeting, for the flame went down in dark- 
ness and he saw no more. 

John, like many imaginative persons, had learned 
to distrust the things seen dimly and finished out by 
a vivid imagination. He told himself it was another 
phantom of his overwrought brain — unreal as a poet’s 
dream of life. He called himself a fool, an arch cow- 
ard and was tempted to whistle from sheer self-hatred. 
But the dry leaves rustled and the twigs crackled near 
him, as when a person is walking slowly in the night. 
A bird flew frightened from its perch and went whiz- 
zing by him as he sat listening; soon more crackling 
and snapping of twigs and a low, cautious whistle, or 
bird-like call. He was sure he saw two forms of dark- 
ness pass under the leaning willow. Still it might 
have been the wind that moved the leaves and gave 
out the crackling sound, or it might have been some 
hungry coyotes, prowling about, lured by the scent 
of cooking grouse or the burnt feathers and scraps. 

AVhatever caused the sound it passed on and away. 
The wind moaned and sighed through the foliage, but 
the dry leaves and twigs gave out no sound. He 


165 

again reproached his treacherous fancy and leaned his 
head over on his bundle and tried vainly to drop to 
sleep. All night John remained in the treetop, wake- 
ful and fighting mosquitoes. At daylight he came 
down. Everything was as he had left it. He went 
up as if to converse with the dummy. He leaned 
down and looked. It had not been disturbed. He 
watered the horses and picketed them in fresh grass 
and ate some cold fragments left from the night be- 
fore, being fully, wholly convinced that no one had 
visited the camp during the night. As he was to 
remain all day and another sleepless night, he con- 
cluded to sleep when it was daylight. He wrapped 
himself in his blankets, with the old carpet bag under 
his left arm and his saddle for a pillow. He lay down 
beside the dummy and slept till afternoon. 

He awoke, being roused by prancing and neigliing 
of strange horses and loud, harsh voices calling: 
^‘Hello, there, lazybones; sleeping this time o’ day? 
Get up and welcome your visitors.” 

John jumped to his feet, letting the blankets drop 
down over the old carpet hag and saddle. He spoke 
kindly to Uncle Collis and Uncle Sam, hut said no 
word of welcome. They had dismounted and stood 
near, with the bridle reins over their arms, taking in 
the camp and everything with roving, eager eyes. 

They spoke cheerfully and seemed surprised to meet 
John, whom they declared was an old comrade of 
cattle car memory. Uncle Collis was super-sweet and 
talkative. John, not to be outdone by any tramp in 
civility, told them he did not recognize these gentle- 


166 

men as former tramps, met casually and long since 
forgotten. 

John tried to talk of the weather, the country, the 
mosquitoes, hoping to avoid questions and gain time 
to think out his line of business-like fairy tales, which 
he had promised to exploit. 

But IJncle Collis was not to he put off or evaded. 
He asked, pointedly, ‘^Who is that lying sleeping 
like a log?” approaching the dummy, touching it with 
a kick of his toe, sa3dng: ^^Get up, you lazy hound, and 
sling on the grub fixings for your friendly visitors. 
Oh, thunder! It is a blasted dummy. What did you 
make that thing for?” 

*^^011, for fun; for company to cheat my lonesome- 
ness,” answered John, glibly. friend overtook me 
and we traveled on together. He has gone off down 
toward Mexico. I wanted to go, hut he did not want 
me along. I suppose I must have cut up and acted 
like a baby, for he told me to make me a companion, 
just as girls make dolls to have something to amuse 
them and make-believe company. So I made up this 
fellow out of the fellow’s cast-off clothing. It is lots 
better than being alone. It is lots of fun thinking 
how he will stare when he sees that fellow lying in his 
blankets.” 

John was doing well for a beginner; so easy is lying. 

^AVhen’s he coming hack?” asked Uncle Collis, with 
cunningly concealed interest. 

^Uh, he said to-morrow morning, hut I am afraid he 
means to give me the slip, for he said if he failed to 


167 

return to-morrow I was to take everytliing and start 
on alone/^ 

‘^Thunder! Yon don’t say so/’ snorted Uncle Col- 
lis, with ill-concealed irritation. “Yow, I know that 
fellow. I have a little unfinished business with him. 
I want to see him bad. We must try and overtake 
him.” 

^^When did he start?” questioned Uncle Sam, with 
suppressed excitement. 

‘^Uh, it was dark as fury; that much I know,” said 
John, with well-assumed stupidity. 

^^Well, you are a queer bird, I vow. I don’t blame 
him for going off alone. I don’t wonder he wanted 
to get rid of your company. I guess Ave better follow 
suit. What do you say. Uncle Sam?” 

‘ J say let’s have something to eat. I’m hungry as 
a wolf; no time to fill a pack saddle with goodies. 
Where’s your gun, boy? Guess I’ll go out and kill 
some quail.” 

^^Ah! So Dynamite took the guns?” sniffed Uncle 
Sam, Avith evident annoyance. ‘^Rather selfish of 
him. He should have left you a gun to defend your- 
self.” 

^^But I don’t knoAv hoAv to use a gun and he said 
there Avere no bears around here anyhow.” 

“Well, AAUat did he give you?” queried the other 
sneeringly. 

“Oh, just lots and lots of things. In case he did 
not come back in the morning I am to have and to 
own the tAvo horses, saddles, packs, blankets, provi- 
sions, Avatch, clothes and pocketbook containing six 


168 

silver dollars and a ten-dollar gold piece. I tell yon 
that is something for a stranger to give a poor tramp 
like me.” 

“Yes, fair to middling,” replied Uncle Collis, with- 
out interest in the subject. He was thinking of larger 
game, for he asked, with cutting directness: 

“Did Dynamite take any pack or bundles with him; 
anything bulky but the guns?” 

“Yes, indeed, he did; just all the pony wanted to 
carry — big grip and saddlebags crammed full.” 

Meantime Uncle Sam had started a fire and put 
over the coffee boiler from John’s pack. Then he 
came up to John and asked where he kept his flour 
and baking powder. 

John went up to the dummy’s head and took hold of 
the sack with a jerk of irritation, raising it up with a 
twitch, the flour shooting out from two new cuts. 
John nearly fainted. He dropped the sack with a 
soh-like shriek: “Oh, my God!” and staggered hack, 
white and shivering. 

“What’s the matter now?” asked Uncle Collis 
gruffly. “Found a rattler or a horned toad?” 

“Oh, my flour sack is cut and the flour all spilling 
out,” answered John, choking with suppressed emo- 
tion. 

“Well, well, do have a little self-control. That’s 
nothing. Holes will wear in everything in a pack 
saddle. Here, I will tie them up and save your flour.” 

He tied up the holes and shook off the wasted flour, 
while Uncle Sam helped himself to coffee, bacon and 
sugar with a free and easy hand. Meanwhile John 


169 

stood around white and silent. He was thinldng of 
Dynamite’s escape and the bright, flashing blade of 
the thwarted assassin. He lifted up the blankets as 
if to shake off the flour. There were fresh cuts in 
them, as though made by a sharp, two-edged knife. 

While the two men were eating and drinking they 
conversed in an undertone. They were anxious and 
watchful. They ate ravenously, as though they had 
fasted long or fared poorly. 

John walked off into the willows to take a second 
look at the ground where the dark figures of the night 
met, beneath the willow. There were tracks of large 
shoes in the earth around the roots of a tree. John 
was satisfied and altogether certain. To his mind the 
two ungrateful sinners ceased to be men and broth- 
ers. They were monsters. They were embodied 
spirits of evil. Then he thought of Uncle Collis as a 
greedy infant, rolling his little head and seeking some 
one to suck; marked with covetousness even before 
birth. Then John relented and felt pity where he 
had felt fury and human passion. He walked back 
to the men, not cordially, but with more tolerance and 
compassion. 

Hanging by a strap over his shoulder Uncle Collis 
had his held glass, ready for use. He was taking it 
from the case as John drew near. He held a large 
pancake in one hand, folded over some bacon, eating 
and looking through the glass at the same time. Sud- 
denly he started and ran up on the highest mount, 
with glass in one hand and meat and pancake in the 
other. When he reached the summit of the high 


170 

bluff John expected to see him look off southward. 
Instead of that he was looking eastward, over and 
along his own trail. 

All at once he gave a short, sharp shout. Uncle 
Sam seemed to understand, for he grabbed up John’s 
coffee, sugar and baking powder and thrust them into 
his own saddlebags; pouring what flour he could into 
the other end of his bags; then, throwing the bags on 
behind his horse, was ready to ride, without heeding 
John’s frowns and feeble words of remonstrance. 

Uncle Collis came rushing down, threw the fine 
saddle left by Dynamite for John on the back of the 
pack pony, leaving in its place a vicious, wild-eyed, 
ordinar}^, untamed broncho. 

John protested, supplicated and entreated, but in 
vain. Uncle Collis was desperate, if not reckless. 
He reminded John that there were times when might 
was right and the present occasion was one of those 
times. He was inexorable. Furthermore, he said 
the pony had been joint property at the Castle and if 
John did not shut up mighty quick he would take the 
Black also. 

At this threat John discreetly held his peace, walk- 
ing back into the timber, raging with human bitter- 
ness. He saw them gallop off southward, as he sup- 
posed to overtake Dynamite. They left him the 
beautiful Black. This was one grain of comfort. 

John yielded to the unavoidable with some grace. 
He was thankful that he had sense enough to obey 
the many instructions of Dynamite. He felt of his 
vest, where he had secretly pinned the oilsilk con- 


171 

taining the thousand dollars. Then he took out his 
gold watch and wound it, opening it and looking at 
the jeweled works. It was his first watch, just as the 
Black was his first horse. The watch seemed to quiet 
his agitated spirits. ISTevertheless, when his eyes 
rested on that pawing, snorting, vicious-eyed broncho 
his anger returned. 

To divert his mind from that ugly animal he 
thought over how well he had followed the orders of 
Dynamite. Even the telling of mild half-truths gave 
him pleasure instead of pain. He thought if it were 
to do over again he could work in a few more fibs with 
relish. So quick does the conscience cease to reprove 
the exploiter of ^Tusiness methods.^’ 

That John had not fastened his eyes on the old 
carpet bag was also a source of self-approval. Neither 
had he showed signs of concern when Uncle Collls 
opened it and took an inventory of its contents. From 
these pleasing thoughts his mind, as well as his eyes, 
would go back to the wild-eyed, untamed snorter. 
John was certain it would not let him put the pack 
on its back, even if he had the nerve to make the at- 
tempt. He walked toward the pawing, prancing, 
lacking demon with a grain sack, to see if it would 
let him place it on its back. It threw up its head 
with a loud snort, puffing, blowing, rearing and plung- 
ing, until John was afraid to go near it, even to lead 
it to water. John was no horseman or broncho- 
breaker. He was tempted, strongly and strangely 
moved to cut the rope and turn the ugly brute loose, 
to care for itself or follow Uncle Collis, at its own 


172 

Satanic will. The thought, the impulse was an in- 
spiration, an intuitive, psychic suggestion. John 
hesitated, much to his regret. 

Inasmuch as he was angry, he failed to act wisely. 
He looked over and sorted out his remaining posses- 
sions, laying aside such as he could carry with him on 
the Black, without overloading his riding horse. J ohn 
was light weight when compared with Dynamite or 
Uncle Collis. This difference, John thought, could 
be made up by the things from the pack saddle. Be- 
sides, he must make more reasonable effort to recon- 
cile and overcome the ferocious broncho before 
cutting the rope. 

The animal was intelligent. It knew John was 
timid, if not frightened. Then, acting from this 
knowledge, it continued to make itself appear wild, 
wdcked and untamable. John was repulsed, discour- 
aged and defeated. The broncho celebrated its vic- 
tory by laying back its ears, plunging at John with 
open mouth, as if to tear him with its malicious teeth. 
John retreated hastily, while the broncho continued 
its derisive kicks, snorts, jumps, vaults and leers. John 
took out his old, dull knife and rubbed it across a 
stone to bring it up to the required edge for the cut- 
ting of the rope. He walked toward the brute. 
Again he hesitated. He heard a rushing noise 
through the timber. He listened, hearkened and, 
alas, waited, hesitated, deferred. 

Several strange, angry-looking horsemen came rid- 
ing in and around the timber, closing in about the 
camp. They were fearless riders — reins in one hand 


173 

and guns in the other — their whole aspect threaten- 
ing, insolent and hostile. They looked at John with 
hate and menace in their eyes. The one who seemed 
to he the leader shonted to John to hold np his hands. 
He obeyed with silent promptness. The leader 
yelled ont: ^^Snrrender! We have got yon this time, 
snre; arrested red-handed, as it were.” 

‘^Gentlemen, what is the matter? What do yon 
want? Where is yonr warrant?” asked John, with a 
boldness which astonished himself. 

^^We will let yon know all those little formalities 
in about three minntes, as soon as we can trot yon off 
to a good tree and get this rope over a limb,” sneered 
the leader in cutting brevity. 

^Hentlemen, yon are laboring nnder some strange 
mistake. I liave harmed no one. I am gnilty of 
nothing more atrocions than poverty and writing 
poetry,” said John, with the convincing andacity of 
innocence. 

^‘DidnT yon, yesterday, steal that sorrel broncho 
tethered ont there, leaving a dead crowbait for ns to 
bnry right by the corral?” 

^^Ho, sir; I did not. I am not eqnal to stealing or 
riding that snorting demon. See, I hold in my hand 
my old knife, jnst sharpened to cut the lariat and let 
him loose.” 

‘^How came he here, by yonr camp, securely teth- 
ered?” thnndered the leader in biting irony. sup- 
pose he walked over here to make a morning call, with 
tethering pin in his teeth, and drove it down into the 
ground with his hind hoof!” 


174 

no; two fellows came here just a little while 
ago and took my gentle pack horse, in defiance of 
justice and honor, and left that sorrel snorter in its 
stead. I protested and demanded, but they said 
might was right in their case. They were armed and 
not good men. Come; look for yourselves. There is 
my pack and pack saddle. See if any of you real 
horsemen can put that on his hack.’’ 

^^But you might have made a pack horse of the 
black thoroughbred,” suggested a long-legged son of 
the desert. ^^She is gentle enough for an3rthing.” 

^^However, I did not; you can see for yourself. You 
can follow footmarks. Now read the saddle marks on 
those horses’ backs and learn that I speak the truth.” 

^‘^Correct, stranger. You can take down your paws 
if you are through sticking them up for birds to roost 
on,” remarked the leader, with a grin meant to be 
friendly. 

They all went out and around the sorrel broncho 
and the black, all looking, talking and ca:refully 
examining the saddle marks. 

“I tell you, boy, that was a close call, a close shave,” 
exclaimed the leader, almost admiringly. ‘^Glad you 
were so thoughtful as to call our attention to these 
little points. We might have found it out some time. 
Then it is so disagreeable, after a fellow is dead, to 
find out we have hung the wrong man. Such a fool 
job; makes a fellow feel flat for a whole week! Glad 
you had wit enough to set us right!” 

In the meantime some of the others were bringing 
brush, sticks, barks and chunks of wood, building a 


175 

great fire, while others were tossing and clawing over 
John’s stock of provisions, preparing themselves food 
without waiting for the formality of an invitation. 

J ohn thought things were growing rather informal, 
even for the ‘^hvild and woolly west.” The sorrel 
broncho they were more than welcome to take, but 
the bacon and remaining flour was quite another 
thing. He was trying to control his nerves enough to 
ask them to leave him something for future use when 
he was startled by hearing one of the tobacco-chewing 
Bedouins shout in wild excitement: 

‘^By the great horn spoon! That black is my Hig, 
stole more than six months ago! I can prove it by 
herself. She is mine, by Jupiter! I trained her. 
She is a trick horse. I’ll show you how she can bow, 
dance, kneel, salute partners, nod her head for yes and 
shake her head for no.” 

He made her go through the whole programme 
without a break. 

“Ho doubt but she has been trained by you,” said 
John sadly, as though the words were wrung from his 
bleeding heart. “Still, you might have sold her,” 
added the novitiate, hopefully. 

•“Hot much, Mary Ann!” retorted the Bedouin in 
infinite disgust. “We don’t sell that kind of horses!” 

Then they all gathered up around the beautiful 
black, each one making some pungent remark, as 
their faces grew dark and their voices lower. John 
was not thinking of himself. He was mourning the 
loss of the beautiful black; nor did he blame the 
owner for wanting his own horse, that he had trained 


176 

so wonderfully. Nevertheless, John was young and 
the black was his first horse. It seemed heart-rend- 
ing to give her up without a protest. He at length 
observed that the men were whispering and looking 
at him with unfriendly if not with ferocious eyes. 
Still, he did not understand the full meaning of this 
new complication. He thought it was bad enough 
to take aAvay both horses, without more trouble; so 
little did he understand his countrymen and their 
brutal, summary methods. 

The leader approached John slowly, with cool, sol- 
emn air, saying gloomily: ‘^Well, young man, it looks 
as though you^d have to swing on general principles. 
Two stolen horses found in your possession; that’s had 
for your case. We are for law and order, if we have 
to string up half the light-fingered gentry in the coun- 
try. It’s our duty to stop these things. We’ve a 
patent process; sure cure; no relapse or return of the 
disease. We give you just three minutes to square up 
your accounts and turn over your vouchers.” 

They all formed a hollow square around white- 
faced, quivering John Martindale. They looked at 
him sternly with savage eyes that told of ropes, 
nooses and dangling dead men. Not one face shov^ed 
a line or glance of mercy or a thrill or throb of 
Christian brotherhood. To them the possession of a 
horse was more sacred than the life and liberty of any 
brother man! Such is the savagery of might. 

John, innocent and without guile, understood the 
full meaning of the words spoken by the leader. In- 
stinct rose in his defense, for his reason was appalled. 


177 

With a face white and colorless as the dead, he said, 
in a voice that sounded strange and husky to himself: 
“Gentlemen, will you allow me time to make a few 
statements of facts that may make my case look less 
criminal and desperate?” 

Some bowed assent. Others shouted: “Go ahead!” 
“Fire away!” “Let ^er flicker!” 

John talked fast and fluently, for he knew his life 
depended on his words. This roused his latent pow- 
ers. He was more astonished at his own quickness, 
pathos and eloquence than were his hearers. He had 
always been a ready debater, having the rare gift of 
thinking on his feet. He ended by telling them the 
impossibility of his stealing the black six months ago, 
as he was then studying in Ann Arbor. He showed 
them the open letter to Lawyer Eush, his graduating 
papers and his name, John Martindale, tattooed on his 
arm. They glanced at the papers and at the dates. 
Then they looked at each other; then at John, whose 
face and words had convinced them more than his 
papers or tattooed name. For J ohn had the face, the 
eye and the expression of not only a good young man, 
but of one that was absolutely innocent of all evil 
intentions. 

When he was through talking some said gayly: 
“You are all right!” “Youfll pass!” “You’re a 
peach!” “Bully for you!” “Good boy!” “Good 
boy!” 

Then John knew they would not lynch him — 
hang him then and there. But to be even arrested 


178 

and confined in jail, to await a slow, tardy trial, w'as 
a thought almost as terrible. 

Notwithstanding they gave up the duty and pleas- 
ure of hanging a supposed horse-thief, they did not 
give up the idea of taking their own property; besides, 
law w’as on their side. They would have the horses 
anyhow. That much was already settled. They grew 
reasonable and almost friendly, while one ill-dressed 
son of the desert swmre he would as soon tear a suck- 
ing baby from his mother’s breast and hang it as to 
hang a girl-faced thing like the accused. 

Moreover, the leader grew open to negotiation, if 
not compromise. He told John in a fatherly round- 
about way that he could give up the horses and other 
such property as he did not need and could not carry 
as he walked on over the desert, or he could come hack 
with them, go to jail, stand trial and prove property. 
He dwelt on the dreary, damp jail, the bias of the 
jury, the rigor of the inexorable judge and the long, 
hopeless years in the God-forsaken penitentiary, add- 
ing as a clincher that to be arrested for horse-steal- 
ing was to be convicted and sentenced to the utmost 
limit of the law. 

They all now joined in exhorting John to give up 
everything possible and call the thing square and 
settled. John had little chance to refuse or reject 
any terms they were pleased to make. He really had 
no choice in the matter. They named the conditions. 
He accepted the one that left him free to continue 
his journey. 

He handed the elegant gold watch and chain to the 


179 

leader, telling him that all he wanted was his satchel, 
blankets and some food. 

The outlook was not pleasant; many hundred miles 
before him, without guide, horse or provisions. But, 
inasmuch as they would take the horses anyhow, he 
might as well save his life and liberty. 

With the bitterness of youthful misery he saw the 
triumphant sons of the plains gather up his precious 
belongings. The social formalities of the desert are 
elastic. They overhauled his pack. They opened his 
satchel, took out the combs, toothbrush, manicure set, 
hand-mirror and tried them with free hands. They 
shook out the shirts and socks and new suit of cloth- 
ing, discussing their relative cost and value. They 
divided the pack, saddles, bridles and suit of clothes, 
but the watch and chain was to be raffled oft, each one 
having a chance. 

To John it was like dying and looking back to 
earth, seeing your friends and relatives quarreling and 
dividing the property. He was filled with disgust 
and loathing. John remained silent. He was seeth- 
ing with youthful, impotent rage. With speechless 
agony he saw them saddle the beautiful Black. He 
turned his face away and walked off among the dense 
trees, but they called out to him not to be sulky, but 
to thank his lucky stars that he was alive and kicking 
and not hanging from a willow limb, dancing for the 
buzzards. They rode gayly away like men who have 
done mankind a noble service. 

When they were well out of sight and hearing John 
went back to see if they had left the things he men- 


180 

tioned. They had scorned to take the old frayed and 
faded carpet hag. They had left the dishonored toilet 
articles, one canteen and the poorer pair of blankets. 

The compass was in his pocket, with the pocket- 
book, but the socks and the new shirts were all gone. 
•jlSrothing remained but the soiled long drawn-out 
shirtwaist, which the dear King’s Daughters made 
and named a man’s shirt. This impossible garment 
the sons of the desert had no use for. Therefore they 
generously left it for John; but not one mouthful of 
food, not so much as a bacon rind or a cold pancake. 
He questioned himself; had they purposely left him to 
starve in the desert? At least they had not done by 
him as they would be done by. Inasmuch as John 
felt woefully used, he said over the Lord’s Prayer with 
heartiness and with understanding of its broad fra- 
ternal meaning. ^Torgive us our trespasses as we 
forgive those who trespass against us.” Then and 
there he forgave them and his soul was at peace. Still 
he mourned the loss of the beautiful Black as a mother 
mourns the death of her new-born babe, in unspeak- 
able sorrow. 

He sat down, hungry and disheartened. He 
thought of his worn-out shoes, his want of provisions, 
of his elation of a few short hours ago, and his heart 
sunk down in blackness." But the sight of the old 
satchel lying despised at his feet turned the current 
of his thoughts. Instead of counting his losses he 
found himself thanking God for what remained. This 
comforted him exceedingly. Besides, the smaller his 
pack the less his burden. He was used to action and 


181 

quick to decide. He rolled tlie satchel in his 
blankets, filled his canteen, looked at his compass and 
started out boldly into the desert, for California. He 
knew he must reach the railway track while he had 
strength to travel. Furthermore he had no desire 
for another visit from Uncle Collis and Uncle Sam. 

Dynamite had told him the distance and direction, 
little thinking how useful it would become to John 
himself. He walked on with a long, swinging stride, 
for he had accepted the inevitable and was at peace 
with himself and all mankind. He would reach the 
railway track, follow it to the first station, then buy a 
ticket to Barstow. As he walked briskly on he pon- 
dered sagely on the uncertainty of earthly affairs. 
To-day high; to-morrow low; to-day rich and inso- 
lent; to-morrow poor and abject; to-day feasting and 
hopeful; to-morrow hungry and despondent. He 
concluded that he, for one, would thank God and 
bow meekly to whatever might be his lot on earth 
for the few days man is permitted to live. Although 
hungry John was growing light-hearted. So much 
does the mind dominate over matter. 

He often consulted his compass and followed the 
course given him by Dynamite. When darkness 
came and made walking too uncertain he rested till 
the moon came up. Then he hurried onward with 
the speed of hope or desperation. When morning 
came, having nothing to eat, he was not delayed, but 
drank a few swallows of water and was grateful that 
he had even water. He was delighted at his powers 
of endurance. Mile after mile he walked onward 


182 

without sitting down to rest. However, he often 
glanced backward, fearing Uncle Collis might think 
it worth his while to hunt him up and wreak some 
direful vengeance on his offending head. But no 
Uncle Collis came. 

The wild dreariness of the surrounding desolation 
promised no companions. The dwarfed and stunted 
trees and shrubs told the legend of change, upheaval, 
submergence and world- wide overthrow; the sea bot- 
tom dry land, and the olden dry land the bed of the 
readjusted oceans. 

x^bout noon John reached the track and toward 
evening he came to a lonely station. He was hun- 
gry, weary and suffering from a terrible nervous head- 
ache. The excitement and unusual emotions of the 
day before were partly responsible for the maddening 
pain in his head. Furthermore, his canteen was 
empty and his thirst gave him great annoyance. He 
asked for water and was given a cup of bitter, insipid 
fluid. 

He bought a ticket for Barstow and used all his 
available money save twenty cents. He bought a 
sandwich, which was neither large nor fresh, paying 
ten cents for the poor little thing. He devoured it 
with relish and was strongly tempted to invest the 
remaining ten cents in another venerable biscuit. 
Prudence forbade. Yet, as a compromise, he asked 
for another drink of water. He was told, confiden- 
tially, not to irrigate too freely with that kind of 
fluid, as it was risky — hard on the delicate inside 
works. 


183 

The train came, nor had he been waiting so long as 
he expected to wait. He entered the car, a ticket- 
holder and not as a trembling tramp. That he was 
hungry and w^eary did not make him utterly miserable. 
The motion and change of scene diverted his thoughts 
He even thought how much faster the cars were car- 
rying him than was possible to travel on horseback. 
Thenceforward the beautiful Black was a memory 
more than a bitter regret. 

Sometimes he leaned back on his seat and slept. 
At least his headache was less maddening and he was 
less fatigued. The car was not crowded and he kept 
his bundle by his feet. ISTo one noticed him or ad- 
dressed him in any way. The conductor came and 
silently, with some show of official greatness or con- 
descension, took his ticket and passed on. 

With stealth and much caution J ohn unpinned the 
oil silk and took out one of the five hundred-dollar 
gTeenbacks, intending to use it in buying a ticket 
from Barstow to Los Angeles. Before going far from 
Barstow the conductor came around. John offered 
him the greenback. He looked at Johffis clothes 
scornfully, at the money suspiciously and at John 
himself ferociously. With a growling bark he snapped 
out the words: ^Tay, sir, or get off. Ho words about 
it, either.” 

John wilted, withered and shrunk up into human 
nothingness. He tried to speak, but his throat seemed 
dry, parched and paralyzed. A tear came to his eye 
and dropped from his quivering cheek down on the 
rejected, offending greenback. The high and mighty 


184 

official saw it trickle down and fall. His heart told 
him it was wrung from a young and suffering soul. 
The conductor was angry, mad at himself, disgusted at 
his own weakness, for he felt moved by some inner 
force, even against his wish, will, head or judgment, 
to say to John, with brotherly gentleness: ^‘Well, 
young man, is that all the money you have about 
you?’^ 

“No,’^ answered John, with quivering lips; have 
another like this one.” 

^^CanT change no such large hill. Besides, it may 
he counterfeit; anyhow, wonT take any such risks. 
That is an old, played-out trick.” 

‘T think it must he good,” replied the crushed and 
hungry poet, with innocent simplicity. 

Oh, how that conductor hated himself for his own 
emotions of humanity — humanity to a ragged, 
stranded wayfarer! Humanity to a tramp! He had 
one comfort; the weakness was not chronic. That 
he yielded once may he overlooked, for he reached the 
uttermost limit of such tolerance and generosit}’’ to 
rags and vagrants hy telling John concisely: “Fire- 
man sick; drank alkali water. You take his place; 
shovel coal; work your fare to San Bernardino.” 

John howled his head in assent, carefully replacing 
the hill in its oilsilk wrap, and put it down through 
the vest pocket, where he pinned it to the interlining. 
When the conductor returned from taking up tickets 
he beckoned to J ohn to follow him. He rose, clutch- 
ing his bundle — his blankets wrapped tightly around 


185 

the old, lank carpet bag — and followed the conductor 
through the cars to the engine. 

They gave him a few brief instructions. He looked 
around to find what he thought was a safe place for 
his precious bundle. Having disposed of it to his 
satisfaction, he took the shovel and began work. The 
shoveling was too heavy for his starving, exhausted 
condition. The work was beyond his strength. 
Moreover, the heat was like hades. Still, he had 
American grit, if not strength and experience. 

He shoveled the heavv coal into the yawning fur- 
nace till his head seemed swelling, frying and ready 
to burst with fervent heat. His eyes, too, were flash- 
ing fire and his ears were roaring with pent-up thun- 
ders. After that all things near and far began to 
reel, pitch, rise, fall, roll around and grow dark. J ohn 
fainted and fell, almost plunging into the fire-box. 
The sick fireman and engineer hurried around to see 
what was the matter. In the bustle and confusion 
they brushed, knocked or accidentally pushed off 
John^s bundle. It fell, humping, hounding and roll- 
ing away down the embankment, among the cacti. 

When John recovered the train was moving up- 
grade, with less than usual speed. He looked around 
wildly, asking the sick fireman with frantic alarm: 
^‘Where is my bundle?’^ 

^^Oh, that fell off the train. It is hack a few miles 
on the desert. We saw it go tumbling off down into 
the cut.’’ 

John had but one thought, one purpose, which was 
to find that bundle — the old carpet bag, holding 


186 

Dynamite’s quarter of a million dollars. He was 
quick to decide and quicker to act. Grabbing his old 
hat and shabby coat, he jumped madly, recklessly 
from the moving train. He fell, or rather was thrown, 
whirling, rolling down among weeds. He v/a» 
stunned, bruised and utterly bewildered. When he 
had collected his faculties enough to rise to his feet 
the train was out of sight. He was alone in the desert 
with the yucca, cacti and sage. He was so excited 
and confused that he could not tell which way to go. 
All was sameness. There came no answer to his 
troubled question — which way is backward toward 
the lost bundle? The grade of the long, winding 
track told him nothing. Solitude and desolation 
were dumb and without suggestive hints. True, the 
track, the roadbed was there, like two iron bands in a 
desert. Yet that told nothing. He felt in his coat 
pocket for the compass. It was not there. He 
searched among the weeds and along the track, but did 
not find it anywhere. He never found that compass. 

Finally he remembered the sun had been scorching 
his right cheek. This gave him a clew. He turned 
northAvard, which seemed to him like going south; 
but he Avas ahvays being turned around. 

He Avas hungry and trembling. He reeled and 
staggered like a drunken man; but the thought of that 
lost satchel steadied his nerves. 

His face was black and bleeding, his hands cut, torn 
and filled Avith the spines of the terrible prickly pear. 
Nevertheless his will dragged his shrinking, tortured. 


187 

lacerated body back several miles over railway ties at 
no laggard pace. 

He was looking, searching on both sides of the track 
for his tramp-like bundle. Then he thought of the 
possibility of some wayfarer passing along and finding 
that trust given into his hands by Dynamite. This 
thought was indeed bitter. To receive a trust and 
then prove negligent or recreant was both treason and 
dishonor. For a Martindale this was impossible. 

As his spirit was dragging his weak, protesting body 
over the ties he saw, far ahead of him, a man, who was 
examining something which he held in his hands. 
John Avas sure he held in his hands the satchel and 
blankets. He was wild with fear and excitement. 
He forgot the directions of Dynamite. He ran; he 
shouted; he waved his hands and arms in frantic ges- 
ticulations. 

The man came on toward him with the slow pace 
that marks the section hand — from the Atlantic to 
the broad Pacific — that pace which is neither walking 
nor standing still, a sort of progressive, glacier-like 
movement. 

John continued to run. His breath came in short, 
quick gasps. But the glacier-like progress of the sec- 
tion man did not change. 

As John drew near him he held out his hand to the 
man, saying between gasps: “You — you have found 
my bundle. How glad I am! I was so troubled, it 
is of no value to any one but to me.” 

The man was a genial branch from dear old Erin, 
nor was he declined to dispute John’s claim, for he 


188 

handed over the old satchel and blankets, Saying, with 
cordial good humor: ‘^Blessed Virgin! But you look 
as though you had taken a round with a coal car. 
That mug of yours would do for the cut of a senator 
in the newspapers, it is that black, scratched and 
bloody-looking. You are welcome to your old truck, 
broken looking glass, toothbrush and all. But mind 
you, me boy, if the things w^ere any good you’d have to 
prove property before I’d give it up. That is fair and 
it’s law. But that flabby old satchel bag is not worth 
lugging around the country. Take my advice and 
throw it away entirely, broken looking glass and all; 
but the blankets you may cut in tw'o and give me one 
for me honesty.” 

John took out his old sharpened knife and, with 
the able assistance of the son of the Emerald isle, 
divided the blankets as he requested. In the single 
remaining blanket John rolled up his lank and de- 
spised carpet bag. He thanked the son of dear old 
Ireland and turned his face back southward. 

^Tlold on, me boy; the handcar will be here in a 
few minutes and we will give you a lift of six or eight 
miles tow^ard San Berdo. A lousy old towm you are 
going to. Faith, they’ll have you in the hole in no 
time, with that face, coat and hat of yours.” 

“I am starving,” w'as John’s irrelevant reply. The 
genial Irishman told John wdien the handcar came 
up they would go through their dinner pails and give 
him -what remained. 

The handcar came pumping, springing, throbbing 
dowm to’ward them. It slow^ed up. The two jumped 


. 189 

on, sitting down on the car like Indians. The men 
searched their dinner buckets and gave freely and 
gladly all they had — some dry bread, spread with a 
thick layer of Samsonian butter, a large slice of cold 
boiled bacon and a rank-smelling raw onion. John 
ate all that was given him like one who is starving, 
without regard to taste or other minor points. They 
also gave him water and one more generous offered 
him a flask, telling him to take a ^“^drop,’^ which he 
did, thinking it would make the water less injurious 
and might relieve the terrible pain in his bruised and 
bleeding head. 

When the handcar stopped John bade them adieu, 
with many tlianks for their brotherly kindness. They, 
too, were lavish with advice, good wishes of Tuck and 
long life. 

Wtli a sinking heart John walked away south- 
ward. He wondered if it could be true, what these 
section men had told him. Was it possible that 
fortunate, well-fed people could be so utterly wTth- 
out pity, mercy or pagan charity? Could such people, 
by any stretch or twist, imagine themselves Chris- 
tians? Could they think themselves followers of the 
lowly Nazarene, who had not where to lay his head, 
who made the feeding of the hungry, the clothing of 
the naked, the first and last and final test of righteous- 
ness, the one earmark that told the ^^sheep’^ from 
the ^^goats.” John w'as amazed. He thought better 
of his countrymen, better of his ideal American, bet- 
ter of democratic institutions, better of law and 
human justice. He had much to learn and more to 


19a 

suffer. The merciless malevolence of mankind he 
could neither believe nor understand. 

He had seen a cow cast, fallen and at the mercy of 
the bellowing, hooking, horning herd; he had seen a 
woman fallen and every other woman’s hand raised 
to push, crowd, hurl her lower down. But the deeds 
of cows and women he had overlooked as a freak of 
nature. That men were more just and merciful had 
been the pride of his budding manhood. How was 
this cherished idol to be broken and hurled in dis- 
honor from its noble pedestal? The thought was 
more cruel and heart-breaking than the pain in his 
head, face and injured knee. 

He was growing quite lame. In his first wild ex- 
citement he had given little thought to his own per- 
sonal feelings. How he realized that in jumping 
from the moving car he had re-sprained his leg. It 
was growing stiff and very painful, while his bruised 
and bleeding face was swelling and fast closing his 
left eye. 

Hotwithstanding his bodily distress he walked on 
without stopping till long after sunset. He was al- 
most afraid to sit down for fear he would not be able 
to get up and walk. However, about ten o’clock he 
came to a cut. Here he found a small groove or slight 
gully on the dark, shadowy side. In this groove he 
spread out his blanket; then wrapped himself in its 
gray folds. He was reclining and wholly concealed 
by the little banks of earth on each side — a hiding 
place and a bed. He was growing cautious. He al- 


191 

Tvays placed the satchel under his left arm, for so 
Dynamite had directed, and John obeyed orders. 

He was tired almost beyond the limit of human 
endurance. He slept as only the young and weary 
can sleep. He dreamed Vulcan was using his head 
for an anvil w^hile hammering out long, two-edged 
knives for Uncle Collis to cut the flour sacks of the 
nations of men. His sleep grew more troubled by 
frightful visions of famine, pestilence and war. 

About midnight he was awakened by some cause, 
some sound or unusual commotion. His head was 
less painful, but his left eye was closed by his swollen 
face. His knee was quite stiff and his bruised, 
ecratched and skinned face w^as throbbing and burn- 
ing. He wondered what could have wakened him 
when he was so tired. Soon he knew, for a voice loud, 
fierce and angry was addressing some one, who lis^ 
tened in meekness and silence. 

John raised his head till he could see over the en- 
closing sides of his trough-like bed. He looked down 
the track toward San Bernardino. He saw two 
fihadowy forms coming near. One was much larger 
and taller than the other. The larger one was carry- 
ing something thrown over his shoulder like a bag 
or gunnysack. It seemed heavy, for he bent as if 
carrying a heavy burden. When they reached the 
shadowy cut they halted near where John was lying 
concealed by the friendly darkness and the little hol- 
low in the embankment. They were in the full moon- 
light, while John w'as in the double shadow, or shade. 

The athlete remained standing, while the smaller 


192 

man dropped down wearily on the end of a projecting 
tie. He seemed an invalid, for he was stooped and 
coughed frequently. The moon shone on his face, 
which was both delicate and deadly pale. They were 
dressed in the cheapest of cheap clothing, old and 
much worn and soiled. Their raiment was a national 
shame and reproach, for the men were plainly honest 
workers. Their hands were large and told of a race 
of toilers. The clear, cloudless sky let down the 
moonlight so it was almost light as day. Besides, 
they were very near and in the full light. 

John had slept with the blanket over his head and 
thrown lightly over his face. Now, with his right 
hand pressed up against the side of the gully, he held 
up the corner of the gray blanket so he could see 
them without being himself seen. 

He saw the invalid look up at his brawny comrade, 
with sorrow and unutterable tenderness, saying, in a 
voice of gentle, loving entreaty: ^^Oh, donT, George, 
Don’t let these little things make you doubt the wis- 
dom and goodness of God. Life is full of trials. 
What matters one or two more or less? Man may err. 
He always has and always may. Still, God is wise 
and his mercy endures forever. All we suffer now 
may he for our good.” 

^Tor our hell !” shrieked the other, with increasing 
fury, smiting his right fist into his left palm with a 
force that sounded like an explosion. ^^Yes, I might 
have borne it myself, with reasonable, pent-up rage, 
if you, my poor sick brother, had not been included in 
their damnable sentence. But to give you thirty days 


193 

m tlieir hell-hole, as well as thirty days to me! Curse 
them and their seed forever! Curse them with all 
the curses known to men and to gods! Now I can 
understand what hell and the devils were made for; 
to roast such canting hypocrites through all eternity. 
Now I can understand the wish of that Roman — that 
all Rome had but one head, so he could strike it off 
v/ith one blow. I wish that accursed town had hut 
one head, so I might chop it off at one whack! 

‘^Oh, I wish I was a cyclone; I’d sweep that old 
town off into the Death’s Valley and cover it up with 
hot sand. I wish 1 was an earthquake; I’d swallow 
them down and lick my chops for more of the same 
kind. Now, Jimmy, you needn’t roll up your eye and 
groan, nor lift up your poor skinny hands to me. I 
am no better than God. He poured down fire onto 
Sodom, because he had the power and the coal oil. I 
would do the same, hut lack the power and the crude 
oil. That’s all the difference. I am no better than 
your orthodox God. I can tell you that right here. 

^‘What’s hell and eternal damnation for? Tell me 
that. It is God’s little cinch on us poor, weak, silly 
■worms. It is the trump card of the churches. It is a 
hot-hole where they generously send thinkers ‘who 
don’t come to thei^ shop for a certified passport to 
glory, paying them their required rates. If your lov- 
ing God tortures, burns his children with brimstone, 
tar, pitch and sulphur, throughout all eternity, world 
without end, for the little slips, falls, fads and foibles 
of fools, because they can’t believe what is unreason- 
able, what is to their understanding absurd, then 


194 

what should I, a common, mortal man, do to a town 
that gives my poor, sick brother thirty days in their 
infernal Jail because he is moneyless and starving? 
What should I do to them if I had the power? An- 
swer me that!’^ growled the giant, with hissing fury. 

^^Give them your pity, your tears, your sorrow, your 
love and your pardon,^^ answered the invalid with 
sweet serenity. feel only grief at their blindness, 
their unholy laws, their narrow, selfish greed, their 
total misapprehension of the direct teachings of 
Christ, their utter failure in understanding the funda- 
mental principles of righteousness and human broth- 
erhood. I could weep for their blindness as Christ 
wept over Jerusalem!’^ continued the weary invalid, 
with the rapt ecstasy of a persecuted saint. “My 
darling brother George, we have lived out that sen- 
tence. That it was unjust and unchristian is a great 
comfort to me. Those thirty days were indeed an 
hourly burden and mortification to the flesh. Let us 
forget that grievous burden and not take it along with 
us and carry it about with us forever. Cast it off 
utterly. I never wish to think again of jail, rock piles 
nor chain gangs. They shall not fill my heart with 
hatred, as they have filled my outer man with vermin. 
I will not consent to bear malice nor blight my heart 
and soul with fraternal hatred; hence I forgive and 
my soul is calm and at peace.^^ 

“I am glad you can forget and forgive if it is any 
comfort to you, Jimmy. I hope you may,” shouted 
the giant with overflowing fury. “But as for myself, 
eternal hatred is my last word for such. I will never 


195 

forget nor forgive such damnable, cursed injustice. 
Just think of it, my brother; here in America, the 
boasted dand of the thieves and the home of the 
knave,’ or some such lying twaddle. Look at us. Our 
forefathers fought under Miles Standish, under Wash- 
ington, under Jackson, under Grant and Pinkerton. 
We are and always have been a race of honest, grovel- 
ing workers, earning our bread by the sweat of our 
brow. But I am a thinker and not a slave. We are 
the last of our race and it is well for us that it is so. 

‘^You are an invalid. I worked for two. I saved 
some of my wages for a rainy day. But I refused to 
vote as my employer dictated. I lost my job. We 
came to California for your health. I paid our fare 
out and board here at cut-throat prices. I spent all; 
starved and begged for work long before I begged for 
bread. 

“I might have starved and died in silence, like many 
others, as those cursed demons desire, but I would not 
let you starve, even if begging, asking charity is the 
crime of crimes in this gold-worshiping, money- 
grabbing region. 

^ J made us a den by a mountain stream, but we were 
hunted out and down as vagrants, with no visible 
means of support. 

^AVhose fault was it that my money melted away 
like snow under their fiery skies? Curse them for- 
ever, as they say God curses those who offend Him. 
Oh, revel! I rejoice in cursing them, like some pious 
pope, with his bulls and holy damnations. I glory in 

. .. . i 


196 

sending ont my whole herd to curse them, the old 
cows and sucking calves included. 

^‘Jimmy, you needn’t lift up your hands in horror. 
I am no better than an outraged pope,” screamed the 
athlete, in vindictive wrath. 

^^Good, kind, loving brother George, my heart 
bleeds for your unforgiving spirit. It is sad when 
good men grow bitter and give way to wicked 
thoughts and sinful words. You are so good and kind 
to me. I wish you could feel love and like kindness 
for all of God’s proud, weak, erring children. You 
know that all men are the children of God and there- 
fore brethren. Brother, remember the fatherhood of 
God and the brotherhood of man.” 

‘‘Well, if they are all my brothers,” sneered the 
athlete, in angry scorn, “they are a mean, measly lot. 
I can say that for them without lying. If w^e are 
brothers then this is a family quarrel, the more bitter 
and relentless because of the kinship. Hereafter, 
Jimmy, if you will be more happy because I bottle 
up my wrath then I will promise to do my cursing on 
the sly, within my soul, inside, and without words. 
But, Jimmy, you are not in this family quarrel. You 
are counted out of the rumpus. For your sake I will 
try to hold in a little, even if I burst by pressure of 
pent-up wrath. I will try and talk of other subjects — 
the weather, scenery and onward march of human 
progress. It really and truly is good to breathe the 
air of freedom, even in a desert which offers nothing 
but starvation and death,” sighed George gloomily, 
somewhat quieted if not appeased. 


197 

“I am hungry,” said Jimmy, as if to turn the cur- 
rent of their thoughts. The athlete took out from 
his sack a large watermelon, which he broke open by 
rubbing the rind on the iron rail and pulling the melon 
open with his strong hands. Each took a half, as if 
suffering from both hunger and thirst. John closed 
his eyes, that he might not covet or grow envious, for 
his own hunger made him wolfish and unreasonable. 

The brothers continued to talk and John gathered 
from what they said that they were on their way back 
east. They were starting on a perilous tramp, going 
mostly by night, as the hot sun of the desert was too 
overpowering for the invalid. The elder brother, 
the athlete, waited on and cared for the younger, 
sickly brother with all the tenderness of motherhood. 
His anger and rage was like that of a grizzly protect- 
ing her young; the madness of maternal love stirring 
the blood of a passionate giant. When they had eaten 
the melon they sat down together and the invalid 
leaned his head heavily over on his athletic brother, 
who remained silent for a few moments, when he 
burst out again with redoubled vehemence, saying 
with burning ire: ‘*^011, poor Jimmy! Let me have it 
out this time or it will burst out in places; just this 
once and then I will hold my peace — hold down the 
valve if I have to sit on it. Think of those blas- 
phemous monsters who call themselves the followers 
of Him who had not where to lay His head. Think 
of them arresting us because we were utterly destitute; 
arresting us for tramps, beggars and vagabonds; rob- 
bing us, firstly, of our only remaining birthright; rob- 


198 

bing us of our liberty; them stealing our labor, all 
because some boodle-taking partisan, without fear of 
God or love of man, got some infernal statute run 
through the machine to rob the poor of both liberty 
and labor in the interest of the cunning dodgers of 
taxes and grabbers of wealth earned by others. Yes; 
it was the most devilish case of robbery on record — 
the robbery of the poor and unfortunate by the rich 
and strong. 

^‘Thirty days in their accursed jail for being un- 
able to pay hotel bills or some other trumped-up 
abomination; thirty days of stolen liberty; thirty days 
of stolen labor; then to kick us out, filthy, ragged, 
moneyless, alove with parasites, reeking with prison 
odors; then, to cap the climax of brutal barbarity, 
give us just twenty-four hours to get out of their most 
holy and righteous town, or they would redouble the 
dose, with several minor improvements. 

^^Oh, I wish I had that city by the throat! I could 
clean my hands afterward. Curse them and their 
spawn forever! Yow I may be able to hold down the 
valve of my anger. At least, poor Jimmy, I will not 
annoy you again with this diabolical case of man’s in- 
humanity to man.” 

‘^That is a good brother!” exclaimed the invalid 
with sweet, tender approval. ‘^They shall not annoy 
us any more. They have robbed, insulted and de- 
graded our bodies, but let us respect our manhood, 
our God-given souls. But they shall not ruin our 
lives nor our faith in God and hope in the universal 
brotherhood of all of God’s children. Let us not re- 


199 

sist evil, but love our enemies, bless tliem that curse 
us and clespitefully use us. They are not the follow- 
ers of the lowly ITazarene. They are worse than 
pagans, for they steal the name of Christ to work out 
their heathen lusts. Let us be good to ourselves and 
forget them and their cunning abominations,” said 
Jimmy, in a pleading, coaxing voice. 

‘^Tt’s a bargain,” ejaculated George, in a strong, 
masterful tone. 

‘^Oh, you make me so happy,” replied the invalid. 
'Tome, brother, let us be going. I am rested and feel 
as though I could walk a long way before the sun 
grows hot to-morrow. Give me your hand, George. 
I seem to gain strength and courage whenever I hold 
your strong, bold hand.” The athlete gave his hand 
to the invalid, assisting him to his feet. They passed 
on out of sight and hearing, the athlete leading the in- 
valid tenderly by the hand. 


CHAPTEE XII. 


John was strangely moved. He was cold, and 
trembling. He was quivering with intense, sympa- 
thetic excitement. His thoughts grew gloomy and 
depressing. A sense, a feeling of impending sorrow, 
a permonition of coming evil, admonished and ap- 
palled him. A sad, sinking sensation of sorrow lay 
heavy on his heart; the same unutterable grief, felt 
when he saw his mother white and cold and dead. 

Nevertheless, he reasoned with himself. He 
thought of his thousand dollars of available money. 
This certainly was reassuring. He asked himself 
why he should fear, quake and tremble because he had 
heard the thrilling wrongs of some other tramps. His 
case was not the same. He had money. He should 
not beg nor trouble others with his hunger or rags. 
Furthermore, he had ten cents to buy bread as soon 
as he reached San Bernardino. He chided and ex- 
horted himself. He told himself he was beyond the 
reach, the clutch of the godless vagrancy statutes. 

He resolved to be circumspect — to starve rather 
than to ask the bread of fraternal charity. Moreover, 
he planned and laid out his future course of action. 
He would walk to San Bernardino, go to the bank, 
present one of the greenbacks, get it changed, buy a 
ticket to Los Angeles, find Lawyer Eush, consult him 
200 


201 

about finding his brother, Hugh Martindale, then 
hasten on the first train to San Francisco to deliver the 
satchel and its contents to Dynamite. 

Having settled these things in his mind, he tried to 
sleep, but the haunting phantoms of human wretched- 
ness mocked and jeered him for his selfish inaction. 
That he was to be a factor and a voice crying out of 
the darkness grew plain to his poetic, enthusiastic 
soul. Yes; he felt this irresistible moral duty, charge, 
commission or obligation as never before. His soul 
saw and knew what his bodily eyes never could have 
seen. He must obey the spiritual voice that bade him 
become the tireless, unpaid, villified, hated, persecuted 
champion of the fallen and outcast, of the poor, hun- 
gry, homeless children of the Universal Father. John 
was thus ordained by the sons of the desert, by the 
words of George and Jimmy. 

Long before daylight John was walking with as 
much haste as his lameness would allow. His cheek 
was much swollen and inflamed. His eye was closed 
and a great lump was puffed out above his eye, like a 
red and purple wen. Besides, that side of his face 
was turning a green and black and blue color. He 
looked hideous. His handsome and refined face looked 
repulsive, vicious and dissipated. 

When it was daylight he took out his cracked and 
broken mirror and looked at his face. He could not 
believe that he looked so villainous. He thought it 
was the cracked glass that distorted his face. Adonis 
himself would be frightful with a swollen nose, puffed- 
out, scratched, blood-stained cheek, purple and black 


202 

eye swollen shut, a lump over his eyehi’ow like a black 
biscuit. Indeed at that moment J ohn Martindale had 
little of the beauty of the girl-faced poet. 

It was near noon wdien John reached the town. He 
saw a hydrant on a vacant lot. He went there and 
bathed his face and hands, drinking fre-ely, as he was 
almost dying from thirst. Hunger tormented him 
less than thirst. 

He put his hand in his pocket for his dime to buy a 
loaf of bread from a haker^s wagon that was driving 
his way, but the dime was not in any of Ins pockets. 
He searched as only a starving man can search, hut 
found no coin. It was gone. It must have fallen out 
while he w^as shoveling coal or when he jumped from 
the train. 

He was disappointed, hut not discouraged. H»i 
limped onward as fast as he could, for hunger was 
clamorous. He must change his hill and buy a full 
warm dinner, as a treat and a celebration. He walked 
firmly if not proudly into the first hank, asking in a 
voice sweet and w'ell-modulated for the change for his 
five hundred-dollar greenback. He shoved it over to 
the cashier, who looked at it long and with great care 
and distrust. At length the cashier silently turned 
his eyes on John, like two Mount Lowe searchlights. 
That glaring gaze gave J ohn a dazed, blinded, startled, 
confused sensation. He felt a guilty, insulted flush 
burning his sore and swollen face. 

Inasmuch as he was innocent of all evil or inten- 
tional wrongdoing, his courage remained, even be- 
yond his expectation, for he looked at the man with 


203 

liis one eye with all the boldness of youthful innocence 
if not. with some flushes of Fourth of July deflance. 

Again the cashier turned his eyes down on the hill. 
He drew his eyebrows together in a wdse and pene- 
trating frown. After more silent, stern inspection 
he took the bill back with him to another bank official, 
who was standing in an attitude of intense interest, 
if not suspicious antagonism. Together the men 
looked at the bill. Then they came up and looked at 
John, at his injured, distorted face, at his old, torn 
hat, at his soiled and tattered clothes, at his tramp- 
like bundle, even down to his worn-out, grinning 
shoes, showing his naked toes, like dusty teeth. 

At length the cashier asked him, with freezing po- 
liteness, where he obtained such a bill. John an- 
swered promptly: ^Tt was given me in Arizona for 
service rendered.” He remembered he had promised 
Dynamite to tell a few business-like half-truths. 

^Tndeed?” sneered the bank official, icily. ^Alay I 
ask what service you rendered?” 

^Df course you may; but is it a customary inquiry?” 
answered John, by way of evasion. 

^^hTot exactly customary, but under the present cir- 
cumstances we are justified in being both cautious and 
impertinent. You must know these bills are not com- 
mon in California. Neither do men in your present 
condition usually have such bills in their possession. 
Have you no smaller bills?” 

have nothing smaller,” replied J ohn, sadly. 

^^How did you reach our city?” asked the artful 
cashier, with business directness. 


204 

“I walked since long before daylight. I was 
anxious to change my money so as to take the train 
for Los Angeles. I tried to change the bill to pay 
my fare down from Barstow, but no one was willing 
to change so large a bill. Yet the conductor let me 
shovel coal to pay my fare. But my bundle rolled off 
the train and I jumped off to find it. See; my swollen 
face tells how 1 struck on the ground/’ said John, 
with sturdy, honest simplicity. 

Again the cashier stepped back as if to consult with 
his superior. Then that gentleman came forward and 
opened the case by asking John where he came from 
and if he had any friends or personal acquaintances in 
the state. 

John answered without hesitation: am from Ann 

Arbor, where I recently graduated. I am going to 
Los Angeles to consult Lawyer Judson E. Eush con- 
cerning my half-brother, whose address is to me un- 
known.” 

‘^‘^Can you read Greek?” 

‘‘^Yoii may try me and see,” replied John grimly. ' 
They handed him a copy of Homer’s Iliad. He read 
and translated a few lines with calm, quiet modesty 
and shoved the book back. However, they continued 
to talk or rather question him on various points that 
had little bearing on the worth of the bill; almost like 
legislative filibustering, to kill time and some bill un- 
favorable to special privilege. 

At length J ohn grew tired of this endless chain of 
questions and asked the cashier if the bill was coun- 
terfeit. 


205 

^‘No; it is not counterfeit. It is a genuine green- 
back. That is what troubles us. If it were only 
counterfeit the ease would be simple, but as it is the 
case is complex and difficult.’^ 

‘‘Then let the difficulty end. Give me my money 
and I will take it elsewhere,” said John, without fear. 

“Not quite so fast, young man. We have been talk- 
ing to hold you here till the marshal comes. Here he 
comes!” 

“You better go along quietly and make no scene 
or disturbance,” suggested the cashier, cunningly. 

But Johffis American was roused. He asked for his 
money, saying: “Give me my bill, my five hundred- 
dollar greenback. Hand it over. It is mine!” 

“Go slow, young man; all in good time. The court 
aHII decide the case. You will have a chance to prove 
3^our right to this money. Things look very sus- 
picious. We will hold the bill till the thing is de- 
cided.” 

“Give me my money. In law I am no more com- 
pelled to prove how I came by my five hundred dol- 
lars than others ho v they come by their money. I 
am not obliged to pi ove my innocence. It is for you 
to prove my guilt.” 

“That is just what we intend to do,” added the high 
bank official, with graluitious malice. 

Then turning to the marshal he said, in hard, pol- 
ished tones: “See here. Marshal, this tramp, this tat- 
tered, blear-eyed hobo, is trying to change a five hun- 
dred-dollar bill! Look at his torn clothes, bruised, 
battered and scratched face. Look when he walks 


206 

how he limps — proof of his victim’s awful struggle 
and desperate resistance. Do you, can any one, think 
such a looking vagrant came honestly by a five hun- 
dred-dollar bill?” 

J ohn began to realize his danger. He felt the net, 
the snare, close round his helpless, entangled feet. 
This called into action his latent, unknown powers of 
resistance. His one visible eye was large, brown and 
brilliant with hashes of defiance. But when the mar- 
shal said, ‘‘^Come,” John did not stir, but asked: 
^^Where is your warrant? For what am I arrested?” 

^^We want no warrant to arrest a tramp. Your old 
rags are our warrant,” answered the marshal. 

Then John turned to the marshal and in a few words 
told how he jumped from the car, tearing his cloijhes 
and hurting his face. The marshal looked at John 
wondering!}^, saying: ^^Ah! so you are that fool tramp 
that made that reckless jump? My nephew, who is 
no other than the sick fireman, told me about last 
night. He thought you broke your blamed neck. He 
was coming to-night to tell me what they did with the 
body; sold to the medical students is the usual end of 
tramps!” 

John was imaginative. In fanc}^ he felt the cold, 
sharp steel of the surgeon’s knife, ripping and slash- 
ing through his quivering fiesh. He shivered visibly. 
Some thought it was a sign of murder and highway 
robbery. 

John asked the marshal if he would be allowed to 
write to Judson Rush, as he wanted him to come up 
and defend him. Then at the name of Rush there 


207 

was a quick look passed among the bank people, as 
much as to say: ‘^What, Judson Eush? We better 
look a little out. He is bad medicine to take! Jud 
Eush!” Again the marshal said: ^^Come!” and John 
went with him in silence. 

How it so happened that this particular marshal 
was not in love with his official functions. The 
wholesale arrest of the hungry and utterly destitute 
annoyed and disgusted him. Such arrests shocked 
his naturally humane instincts. At all events, the 
Tockpile and chain gang were revolting to his Ameri- 
can ideas of civil and constitutional rights and liber- 
ties. To his mind a hungry, starving man had as 
much right to beg food as preachers had to beg money 
to send clothes and fixing to the heathen. The mar- 
shal was not orthodox. That was the trouble with 
him. But he was fat and lazy and had to earn his 
bread and the bread for his wife and seven healthy, 
hearty children. Furthermore, he could not shovel 
dirt or handle a pick without greater offense to his 
indolent nature. Therefore he remained in his posi- 
tion of human retriever, notwithstanding his loathing 
and dislike for the service. 

How, here was another case of more than usual 
brutality and atrocity. It went against his idea of 
American decency. Moreover, he had his own ideas 
of law and justice and sometimes his own methods of 
procedure. In this case he cut the Gordian knot of 
justice and let the prisoner go on about his business. 

True, he took John ofi, away from the bank, but he 
was not going to deliver him at the jail. John should 


208 

be made to escape, even if be, the marshal, had to run 
oif himself and leave the prisoner! On this point his 
mind was fixed. He had been asked to arrest John 
as a tramp, a vagrant, a hobo, a vile and suspicious 
character, doubtless a highwayman. They could thus 
hold him in Jail till his supposed victim or victims 
were discovered. Meantime the bank generously held 
the five hundred-dollar bill. 

However, John was permitted to take his bundle 
along with him, as he walked away from the bank with 
feeling akin to those expressed by the cursing athlete 
of the desert. 

Inasmuch as John was not expecting nor asking 
mercy or favor, he was abashed, confounded, thunder- 
struck, when the marshal said to him in fatherly ten- 
derness: ^‘How, young man, I have a mind to let you 
escape from me. You clip off toward the west. I 
will go toward the east. I shall not catch you very 
soon. Do you sabe? Do 3^011 catch on?’^ 

^^Yes, sir, I understand; but will it be right? Will 
it not injure your position to show mercy to a tramp? 
You should not be recreant to your official duty,” said 
John thoughtfully. 

^^Eecreant to your grandmother!” snorted the high 
exponent of law and order, with infinite scorn. ^^What? 
AVould you stay and be sent up for thirty beastly days? 
Take my advice, young man. Skip! Git! The door 
is open. I tell you to run for it. You stand; you 
hesitate; you ask me if it is right. YTiat do you mean 
by right? Eight for the strong, the ruling rich, the 
majority, to snap up the hungry, starving poor, steal 


209 

their liberty, rob them of their birthright and their 
labor because of their destitution ? They have no ap- 
peal, no redress. Their hunger is their crime. Their 
rags deliver them to the jailer. Their povert}'’ con- 
victs them. Their misery sentences them to the chain 
gan'^. Boy, are you a fool or a martyr?’’ 

“I don’t knotv. I have thought law and justice 
were one and the same, but it seems they are not,” 
answered J ohn with sorrow, like the Man of Sorrows. 

“Nonsense! Fiddlesticks! Laws are no more sa- 
cred, just and holy than are the lawmakers them- 
selves. Look at our lawmakers. Look at me; I am 
the flower and fruit of six thousand years of law. I 
am a ‘bute,’ a ‘bird,’ as the kids say. Now, y'^ang 
man, do as I tell you. Light out! Scud! Go to 
Lawj^er Eush; send him up here to the bank for 5^our 
five hundred dollars. When I reach that comer I shall 
go into the saloon on official business, of course. You 
whip around the corner. Vamose! Git!” 

John obeyed. Instinct also told him to go. More- 
over, John had not scaled those sublime moral heights 
reached by the pagan Socrates, who refused life and 
liberty under greater pressure. John was a first-class 
American product, alive and quite human. We vdll 
say this much in his favor: The old satchel and its 
contents, belonging to Dynamite, gave wings to his 
feet. He was a messenger, a carrier. He flew around 
the corner. He did not stop to limp. The lame leg 
had to travel! He left town without regard to road 
or direction. He went as he never walked before. 
He dare not look behind him. The clutph of the 


210 

law had been relaxed. He fled as from the horrors 
of the holy Spanish inquisition! 

As he fled he wondered that men took him for a 
felon — the son of Colonel Martindale a dangerous 
character. He had thought better of men’s judgment 
and men’s mercy. He was more surprised at men 
than at their laws. He had seen train robbers; now 
he had met the other side. He found himself com- 
paring the men and their methods. He was shocked 
at the result of his comparison. It did not harmonize 
with his theories of social standards. He was angry 
with himself for what he called his social and moral 
apostasy. He reached the low water mark of degen- 
eracy when he recalled the fact that J esus chose har- 
lots and outcasts for comrades. 

John had felt the grip, the touch of the law and 
order class. The withering gangrene of that con- 
tamination was developing. He was both astonished 
and grieved. Something had gone out of his life for- 
ever. How he understood the hatred, the rebellion, 
the eternal taint of prison corruption. His sympa- 
thetic imagination magnifled and greatly exaggerated. 
He had been more than arrested. He had been in- 
carcerated and vaccinated with the felon’s fury, hatred 
and undying rebellion. A good, honest, man-loving, 
God-fearing young man was lost to conservatism. He 
then and there joined the ranks of the opposition. It 
is ever thus that iconoclasts are inspired. 

Notwithstanding his mental and moral commotion, 
his feet continued their flight. That he had been 
hungry was forgotten. An evil greater than hunger 


211 

assailed him — the misery of the poor and oppressed. 
He, John Martindale, who traced his lineage back to 
the great lords of England, chose his part henceforth 
with the “Submerged Tenth.” To him the social 
world was inverted. The high were the low, the great 
the small, the honored were steeped in dishonor, the 
virtuous the vile, the criminal the apostle of truth. 

John questioned his own vanity. He wondered if 
his injured head was making him mad. He had heard 
all the world lift up its voice as one man and curse, 
villify and denounce those who felt and thought as 
he was forced to think. Indeed, an anarchist was 
but another name for Satan and the unparch mable 
sin. Why was he doomed, fated to cast his lot with 
the despised, the execrated, the outcasts of earth? 
Then he thought of Christ, his words, his teachings, 
his sorrows and brutal, merciless death. What, was 
he, John Martindale, to shrink from ignominy, from 
injustice and false accusations? His work, his mis- 
sion, his duty was not to drift with the current. The 
scales had fallen from his eyes. He saw the truth, 
the eternal right. He was terrified! 


CHAPTEE XIII. 


John continued his flight. He asked no questions. 
He avoided people. He followed the road pointed ont 
by the marshal. Wherever the highway led there he 
went. He drew near a large town or city. Again he 
drank at a hydrant and bathed his swollen face. He 
looked back behind him. He saw a great clond of 
dnst and heard the bark of dogs. He was certain it 
was the baying of bloodhounds on his trail. In fact, 
it was only some vicious boys teasing a stray ciir. 
Again that awe-inspiring bark, which to his tense, ex- 
cited, overwrought nerves was the blood-curdling 
yelp of the man-slaying slenth-honnds. He trembled 
and cold chills added to his tremor. He saw a man 
sauntering toward him who had the air of a police- 
man. He looked at John as a cat looks at a mouse. 
John tried to avoid him. This was unwise. The 
man turned and stepped up beside John and asked 
impertinently: ‘^You seem in a hurry. WhaPs up? 
Where are you going at that pace?’^ 

am going to Los Angeles,’^ answered John, with 
civility. have no money to pay fare or buy food. 
I am starving and want to reach Los Angeles while I 
have strength to walk. I shall not beg nor ask food, 
so you need not arrest me just because I am starving. 
I have a constitutional right to go on the highway, to 
212 


213 

walk your streets. I shall not annoy the well-fed or 
fortunate by unseemly prayers nor appeals. I may 
starve. I may drop down helpless. I may even die, 
but I will not ask bread from such as you.'’^ There 
was a bitter scorn and defiance in the voice of hun- 
gry, starving John Martindale. But the policeman 
laughed derisively at the fierce, romantic resolves of 
the starving wayfarer. He said, without passion or 
rancor: ^^Bully for you; wish there was more of your 
kind going along this way. But iBs all no use. You 
can’t hide your hunger. It is written on your face, 
written on your torn and pinned-up rags, written on 
your bundle, written on your old hat, written on your 
grinning, open-mouthed shoes, written on your dirty 
shirt, written on your uncut hair and fuzzy cheeks. 
Oh, we know you tramps, you vags, you hobos by your 
very footfall. We spot you at a glance. There are 
no need of words to tell us who you are. Still, you 
may avoid arrest if you keep up that pace, but if you 
stop, sit down, go around to kitchen doors or look 
into a bakery window with ravenous, longing eyes, 
then I would not vouch for your liberty,” declared 
the tramp-catcher, without shame or one touch of hu- 
man sympathy. 

^^This must be an awful town,” murmured John 
mournfully. ^Tt was well for that man who fell 
among thieves that he went down to Jericho and not 
to this merciless town.” 

“Oh, this town is all right. This is Eiverside, the 
new Eden, the pride and boast of the world — that is 
of southern California. I tell you this town is a daisy 


214 

compared to some other towns. N’ow, there is mil- 
lionaire Pasadena. That town takes the cake in this 
tramp-catching business. There they snap np thir- 
teen a day as a good, healthy average. Their papers 
boast of their great hauls as a bait for millionaire in- 
vestors. If yon are going to Los Angeles pass around 
on the other side of Pasadena; give the Crown of the 
Valley a wide berth. Yon are not the kind of tonrist 
they are bidding np for. Yo, sir; they want the ping 
hat, fonr-in-hand, bob-tail contingent. But tramps! 
Yonhe not their kind of meat. YouYe not going to 
buy their Mount Lowe bonds nor their played-out 
ranches. My youthful tenderfoot, steer clear of Pasa- 
dena. Eemember the warning of a Eiverside police- 
man: Never strike Pasadena for a ^hand-out.’ 
Starve, steal or hang yourself, but never go there 
^ahungered and begging bread.^ ” So saying the 
tramp-tormentor turned and entered what might have 
been a saloon or some such resort of the guardians of 
the well-to-do. 

Starving and filled with sad presentiments of evil, 
John hurried forward. There was a quivering, 
ominous, sinking sensation in his breast. His one 
open eye was irritated by the ever-flying dust of the 
dry, rainless summer. Furthermore, by sympathy it 
was also becoming inflamed, which added to his al- 
ready disreputable appearance. He often wiped his 
eyes with his one soiled handkerchief. His eyes 
seemed to give him much trouble, whether it was 
from tears or other reasons is still a matter of con- 
jecture. 


215 

Xoar evening lie came to a flowing stream. He 
drank and washed out his handkerchief, folding it 
and hanging it over his injured face by placing the 
end underneath his hat. The damp, cool cloth re- 
lieved the burning pain. 

The moon was bright and he walked on hour after 
hour on the main traveled road. His progress was 
not all he desired, for his lameness and blistered feet 
ivere troublesome. Moreover, his hunger and weak- 
ness Vv’ere increasing. Nevertheless his American grit 
dragged his protesting body onward with ever de- 
creasing speed. 

At length he dropped down beneath a live oak to 
rest or pray, it is not known clearly which. At least 
his posture and attitude were those of prayer. He 
was on bis knees, with his bundle pressed up against 
his stomach, after the manner of the starving, and his 
head bowed over against the body of the tree. 

He drew himself up with difficulty and staggered 
wearily onward. The night was better traveling than 
the dusty, burning sunlight. 

Long after midnight, as he was going along a wild, 
desolate waste, he saw walking in the road, coming 
toward him, a being that had the outlines of a man. 
As he drew nearer John stepped in behind the screen- 
ing shadows of a clump of castor beans. The object 
was a sight to make a strong man quake. John 
thought it some lunatic, escaped from, the violent 
ward. He was without hat, coat, vest or shirt. His 
form was gaunt and skinny and his breast and arms 
bristling with hair. As this wretched creature drew 


216 

near John saw that he carried a loose coiled rope in 
one hand. His feet were hare and his tattered trou- 
sers were frightful. Such trousers on a man in 
America! They were not a garment; they were hang- 
ing rags and shreds. Around or on one leg were tat- 
ters reaching to the knee. On the other leg was a 
long, open, slit piece of fluttering, flying rags, which 
concealed hut not clothed. As the wretched creature 
walked his rags flopped and flapped and blew out be- 
hind him. John watched it or him in breathless won- 
der. He even thought him.self going mad and this 
hut a creature of his frenzied brain. The face was 
little more than bristling beard and locks of long, 
matted, uncombed hair. This man, if such still he 
called men, halted, looked around and then ascended 
a large, live oak near where J ohn was standing. The 
dense foliage concealed the being. John thought the 
thing might have a sort of nest up among the branches 
and had simply gone up to sleep. 

John was about to move on when he saw the bare 
feet and hairy legs far out on a large lower limb. The 
being sat down on the hare limb, intent on something 
he was doing with the rope. His movements were 
swift and excited. The treetop cast a shadow over 
part of his body, hut the hairy legs were in the full 
light. 

All at once John’s heart gave a throb and rose up 
choking in his throat, as the man hung down from the 
limb by one hand. The other hand seemed tied at 
his side. His one hand let go the limb. He was 


2ir 

hanging, swinging, swa3dng, writhing, whirling by 
the neck. It was suicide! 

J ohn was a university man and had some nerve and • 
presence of mind. He took out his old sharpened 
knife, dropped his bundle, rushed forward and sprung 
upward and severed the rope. The man fell heavily 
to the ground, gasping, choking and clutching with 
his free hand at his throat. John cut the rope from 
his neck and freed his tied hand. The man’s neck 
was not broken, although it was cut by the rope and 
bleeding freely. 

The man was conscious, but silent or sullen. He 
would not answer John, who talked to him with im 
finite pity and brotherly sorrow. He took the wet 
handkerchief off from over his eye and with it bound 
up the man’s bleeding neck. The man sat up, moan- 
ing in a despairing, hopeless way. When he saw how 
good and kind John really was he seemed to relent and 
let' John do by him as he wished, even to putting on 
that shirtwaist shirt made by the King’s Daughters, 
soiled, yet without rents or rips. 

The man gave his name as Samuel Adams. But it 
was when he told the reason or causes which led him 
on to attempt self-murder that John cried aloud to 
the listening trees, the rocks, the stars and the silent 
firmament. His sympathy was like balm to the suf- 
fering soul of Samuel Adams. He grew hopeful, 
almost cheerful. 

Samuel Adams was one of the great roving multi- 
tude known to the public as the Unemployed. He 
was a skilled workman, willing — ^more than willing to 


218 

work. He had a wife and three children living by the 
San Gabriel river, in a hut or huts made of sticks and 
leaves of the fan palm. When he left them to hunt 
work they were in a state of utter destitution. He 
had hunted for work, traveled for work, begged for 
work, prayed for work, and had been arrested and 
sent up for a vagrant, a tramp, a hobo! From six dif- 
ferent towns or cities he had gone forth after serving 
out a sentence, warned to leave inside of '^enty-four 
hours or be again arrested. He had been ct?iven from 
jail to jail, from chain gang to chain gang, till his 
clothes dropped off in rags. He had no shirt, no hat, 
no coat, no shoes, nothing but rags and nakedness. 

Then the time came when he dared not show him- 
self in the daytime, for once he had been arrested for 
^ indecent exposure, because his rags gave way in the 
wrong place at the wrong time. Since then he had 
clothed himself with darkness, prowling about in the 
night, milking cows in empty fruit cans and living by 
ways better guessed than told. As he narrated the 
story of his torments he srrew fierce and excited, say- 
ing, with passionate pathos: “What can a poor, ragged 
devil like me do but to decently die? I could not get 
work to help my family. I only eat what might keep 
them alive. Six times I have been robbed of my lib- 
erty and mv labor stolen by force of law. In the last 
eight months I have not received one cent for all my 
sweat and toil. They stole my labor without my con- 
sent, because I was poor, helpless and down under 
their cruel, merciless feet, while my wife and little 
hungry babies were left to starve. How you say God 


219 

is good and loving to his suffering children. Do you 
call such things good? Do you call starving good?^’ 
demanded Samuel Adams, with increasing warmth. 

‘‘Not exactly good in and of themselves. Still, they 
may lead to good; either spiritual good or good to 
some other suffering soul,’’ answered J ohn, with more 
than usual weakness if not of actual doubt. “The 
ways of God are not our ways,” added John, with more 
faith in the things taught him by his mother. 

“Tell me this, what could a ragged, naked, friend- 
less, hunted outcast like me do? Go home, a burden 
to my already starving wife or just give it up as a bad 
job and die? But you wouldn’t even let me die. 
Now what are you going to do with me?” 

“I don’t know. I am starving m3^self, yet I have 
not once thought of self-murder. I do the best I can 
and the best I know and leave the outcome with God.” 

“I have heard that kind of talk before, but it is not 
very filling to an empty stomach. The preacher talks 
that kind, but comes around for men to pay him all 
the same. I have heard lots of fine words. The 
question is: What next?” 

“Have you ever asked the King’s Daughters to help 
you?” 

“No. Who are they; some of Queen Vic’s numer- 
ous brood?” 

“They are good young ladies who obey the teach- 
ings of Jesus. They feed the hungry, clothe the 
naked. See; they made these trousers and gave them 
to me,” said John, by way of evidence of their active 
Christianity. 


220 

Young man/’ exclaimed Samuel Adams, dryly, 
''poor as I am, I would not trade my rags for those 
breeeches, if I had to wear them. I might wear my 
wife’s skirts, hut not a skirt on each leg; that is too 
much of a good thing,” and the would-he angel 
laughed loud and long. 

To have the work of those adorable young women 
mocked and jeered roused even starving John Martin- 
dale. He said, vehemently: ^^Sir, so long as I live all 
my trousers shall be made like these ample, full- 
legged breeches, in remembrance of the King’s 
Daughters of Kansas!” 

^^Young friend, your sins must be great and many, 
that you give yourself such a penance!” laughed the 
hatless man of rags. John was glad to see him face- 
tious and took his mild banter as a sign that the mor- 
bid spell was broken. John gave Samuel Adams his 
one blanket, telling him to put it around him, Indian 
fashion, and come along with him. Adams obeyed 
cheerfully. 

They traveled on together, comparing miseries, tor- 
ments and earthly tribulations — appalling pictures; 
rueful records. 

About noon they reached the home huts of Samuel 
Adams. There was jo}^, tears — and nothing to eat — 
not so much as a cold potato or a boiled pumpkin. 
However, Mrs. Adams milked the goat and gave each 
a portion — about half a cup. Even this meager lunch 
seemed to renew John’s strength and courage. Be- 
sides, he had less to carry, having given Mrs. Adams 
the blanket to cut up for her husband a pair of pants. 


221 

He wanted to hurry on and away from a sight so for- 
eign to American theories of equality. The children 
were gaunt and skinny; the little three-year-old girl 
naked, brown and tanned like leather; the five-year- 
old hoy had pinned about his loins an old fiour sack, 
with the words ‘^Stockton Mills” plain to he seen. 
The seven-year-old was clothed in tears, tan and mod- 
esty, for she drew an old gunnysack across her naked 
knees as she dropped down to the ground fioor to make 
herself as small and compact as possible. The mother 
had on one garment, if rags and patches can he called 
a garment, hut the children made a short cut and 
went hack to nature, if not to fig-leaf decorations. 

John, though starving himself, shed tears at the 
sight of that wretched group. He could hardly be- 
lieve his eyes. Such misery! Such destitution! He 
could say or do little to comfort or console. The 
case was too desperate for mere words. He thought 
of his remaining five hundred-dollar bill. If he could 
ever get that changed then he could and would help 
them. This he promised to do as he hade them fare- 
well, wondering if God also had forgotten the poor 
and ahungered. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


It was late in the afternoon when John reached 
Lamanda Park. He was trembling from hunger and 
fatigue. The hot sun and burning roadway had in- 
creased the inflammation of his face and eyes, while 
black and blue patches, variegated with purple, green 
and red, made his face a sight to behold! He dare 
not rest long, as at every rest his knee grew more stiff 
and painful. He hurried on, stopping only at hy- 
drants to drink. The sight of men grew hateful, 
while the grins and giggles of women seemed de- 
moniac. The madness of the starving was ferment- 
ing in his blood. 

He came where the road was crossed by another 
road. He was uncertain which one to take. He 
asked a son of Belial which road was the shortest road 
to Los Angeles, as he wished to avoid traveling 
through the next town, evidently for some good rea- 
son. At this the son of Belial winked knowingly and 
then, with malice aforethought, wantonly and deceit- 
fully told John to keep right on down Colorado 
Street till he reached Fair Oaks. That was his best 
route to Los Angeles. 

John thanked his betrayer, in a faint, quavering 
voice, then limped on into the jaws of the tormenters 
of the destitute. 


222 


223 

On down Colorado the ragged, starving, reeling 
wayfarer dragged his blistered feet. He was con- 
fused. He hesitated; then asked a citizen the best 
way for him to reach Los Angeles. The facetious 
citizen told him to go over to the corner of Fair Oaks 
and ask the large man standing there on the corner. 

In the simplicity of virtuous youth John went over 
and addressed the person indicated. It was the city 
marshal. Enough! John was arrested and led off, 
reeling and staggering from starvation and exhaus- 
tion, into the foul pen called by taxpayers “the city 
prison.” John was dazed and heartsick. All things 
earthly seemed to wave, turn, whirl, dip down and 
vault upward, swing back and forth, finally grow dark 
and fade away. John fainted. He was yanked off 
into the inclosure, unconscious, and flung into a cor- 
ner as a drunken hobo. The satchel was rolled up 
under his coat and tied in place by a bit of the rope 
used by Samuel Adams. His coat was buttoned over 
the apparently empty carpet bag, for he had been 
afraid he might faint, fall or lose it in his increasing 
weakness and blindness. AVithin that reeking pen 
were twelve other children of hunger; the disin- 
herited, “Submerged Tenth.” They were all await- 
ing the morrow’s sentence, although to be arrested for 
vagrancy, utter destitution, is to be already sentenced. 

As it was evening when John Avas arrested, he was 
given no supper. It was not offered. Perhaps his 
being thought drunk was the reason. Moreover, he 
did not ask for food nor favors, therefore received 
none. Starvation was doing its work vdth unusual 


224 

SAviftness. John had almost passed the mad stage 
and reached that of dreamy stupor. 

The other twelve victims of man’s inhumanity to 
man were coiled up, trying to rest if not to sleep. 
They gave little heed to John or to his condition. 
The only notice they gave him was to shout and jeer 
in A^arious accents of human misery such phrases of 
bitter irony and sarcasm as only the Avr etched enjoy. 
One shouted: ^Tlello, there; another bloom for the 
chain gang bouquet.” Others joined in the salute, 
saying: ^^So, there, you struck this old bob-tailed 
toAvn for a crust!” “You ask for bread. They are 
generous; they give you a stone pile.” “ISTothing 
small about this town, you bet — thirty days, the least 
they give here.” 

“Shoel and hades aren’t in it any more. They roast 
us down here; do us up brown, too!” “Hell has lost 
its grip; Christianity to the rescue!” “The devil 
wants recruits. Come in gentlemen; here is his re- 
cruiting office.” “We are all drafted for the devil’s 
army.” “Stand by your colors, boys.” “Here is a 
raAv recruit for us to drill, but he’ll be a veteran when 
Ave are through with him!” 

They kept up their mocking, chaffing, jeering com- 
ments, AAffiich Avere neither reassuring nor of a lauda- 
tory nature. J ohn was more than starving. He was 
dying of disgust and grief for fallen idols. He was 
heartsick and disappointed. 

During the night his mind seemed to wander. He 
sometimes drifted off in stupors that were neither 
sleep nor utter unconsciousness. At other times he 


225 

would mutter words wliicli seemed without rational 
meaning. Dynamite was a name which was most fre- 
quently on his lips. Some thought he might he a 
crazy nihilist, searching for victims of retaliation. 
Once he cried out in wild pathos: ‘^‘Oh, if I could find 
my brother, my good brother, Hugh Martindale.'^ 
Then he fell back against the wall like one fainting or 
dead. 

Yet that cry was not uttered in vain. It was heeded 
on earth if not in high heaven. In that godless den 
of earthly torment there crouched another son of hu- 
man woe and destitution. At the words ‘Trother'’ 
and ^Tdugli Martindale” the figure started as though 
touched by a live wire. He crawled over by John and 
took his hand, feeling his pulse, rubbing, patting and 
chaffing his hands with the skill of a physician and 
the tenderness of motherhood. All night the un- 
known nurse held John’s head and soothed his fever- 
ish frenzy. Through all his delirium John held his 
left arm pressed down over the old carpet bag, which 
was wrapped flat over his back, with the two handles 
coming in front of his right arm, where the bits of 
rope were tied from handles to and around the stiff, 
flat-tying bottom. Over the lashed-on satchel was 
buttoned his old coat, completely concealing the old 
carpet bag. John always lay on his left side, to make 
the old carpet bag doubly secure. 

With the return of daylight John’s illness in- 
creased. He was sinking fast. At times he would 
spring up with a wild, terrified start and glare around 
like one who sees snakes in the delirium tremens. His 


226 

inflamed eye rested for a moment on his attendant. 
He then muttered: ^^Yes, yes; I know it is he. Ho 
one hut the Unterrified is so good and gentle.^^ Eeach- 
ing up his right arm to the Unterrified, he drew down 
his head and kissed his face lovingly, as a man kisses 
his mother. Hor was this the only wonder, for the 
Unterrified returned his kisses with tears of unutter- 
able passion. 

At length the hour came when the starvelings were 
ordered out to breakfast. John was again insensible, 
consequently could not walk out to meals. ^^Drunk,^" 
the marshal said, with official omniscience. . J ohn 
was left alone in the inclosure. The Unterrified asked 
for something to take in to the starving invalid, hut, 
being himself nothing hut another vagrant, was not 
permitted. Moreover, he was so watched and guarded 
that he was unable to smuggle any of his own ra- 
tions. He tried, was detected, called a thief and or- 
dered to return the morsel. 

The solemn farce, rightly called a trial, we will 
omit, for reasons better guessed than told. Suffice, 
it was all that might he expected. The arbitrary sen- 
tence was announced with courtly dignity and legal 
severity. The twelve were each given thirty days in 
the county chain gang, or fined for not having money 
to patronize the city hotels and numerous feeding 
houses and sent to jail to work out this not very 
Christian way of feeding the hungry. But John’s 
case was considered of unusual enormity, for he was 
given sixty days, being booked as both drunk and dis- 
orderly. Inasmuch as he was unconscious it did not 


227 

affect him what his sentence was. He was carried in 
and out in the arms of the ex-engineer. 

To the court John’s injured eye and swollen face 
w'ere proof, strong as holy writ, that John was a 
drunken tough, if not a dissipated, youthful des- 
perado. Certainly John’s looks were not much in his 
favor. Neither were his clothes such as invite ad- 
miration, mercy or public sympathy. His crime was 
his rags, his rags their warrant; their warrant was his 
sentence; his sentence was the glory and shame of our 
merciless civilization. 

All the tliirteen unfortunates were tried, sentenced 
and delivered at Los Angeles before noon. Such is 
the speed of law, running in the destitute. 


CHAPTER XV. 


When the thirteen were turned over to the jailer at 
Los Angeles the IJnterrified carried John in his arms, 
as a mother carries an infant. J ohn was unconscious 
and apparently d^dng. 

Eor some reason, unknown to those not deep in the 
secrets and mysteries of American politics, the jailer 
at Los Angeles v/as an honest, humane citizen. How, 
why or when a man like him was given an official posi- 
tion may long remain a wonder and a warning to other 
sham republics. It was an abnormal thing, a phe- 
nomenon, which under our methods may never again 
occur. Nevertheless the fact remains, like a moun- 
tain in a prairie, that an honest, clean-souled man 
was at the Los Angeles end of the hole. This fact 
was not generally known. Still, there were some who 
mistrusted and shook their heads with gloomy warn- 
ings and forebodings. 

It was this jailer, suspected of humanity, who asked 
the IJnterrified with evident concern what was the 
matter with the young man whom he carried in his 
arms. The incisive answer was both prompt and 
defiant: ‘^Sir, he is dying of starvation. Look for 
yourself. See how emaciated; feel his pulse, or call 
a doctor. This is murder, social murder, plutocratic 
murder,” and his eyes flashed and his voice choked 
228 


229 

and faltered, while his firm, set teeth and clinched 
hands told of extreme human passion. 

Instantly the jailer sent for a doctor, who came and 
decided it was a case of starvation, pure and simple. 
In a few moments he was feeding John broth, or soup, 
and bathing and dressing his injured face. However, 
he frequently shook his head, saying, briefly: ^‘Bad 
case; had case. You sent for me none to soon!^^ 

Skill, zeal, everything known to science or sug- 
gested l3y humanity, was done then and there for the 
vagrant, John Martindale. Moreover, the dark, evil 
story lost none of its force and pathos coming from 
the burning lips of the Unterrified. He felt neither 
fear nor shame, reserve nor delicacy, in revealing all 
the revolting brutality lavished on the starving va- 
grants. The revelation was both strange and start- 
ling. 

It was near three o’clock when John opened his 
eyes and looked around rationally. He recognized 
the Unterrified and said to him, faintly: Where 
am I?” 

“You are in Los Angeles, among friends, who will 
care for you. Don’t worry. You have found your 
brother and he has found you,” added the Unterri- 
fied, with gentleness. 

“My brother!” exclaimed John, in a dazed, wonder- 
ing voice. “Are you my brother, Hugh?” looking up 
at the Unterrified with the glow of love in his weak, 
injured eyes. 

“Yes, Johnnie-girl-face; I am your brother, who 
harnessed the white rabbits for you and helped 3^11 


230 

fill the wagon — the little rabbit cart, with clover 
heads.” 

^^Oh, yes; yon were always so good I onght to have 
known yon from the first, hnt my fancy was so pnffed 
np with vanity; I was looking for clothes and position, 
not for goodness or manhood. I am well punished 
for my silly ideal of manly worth.” 

Again he reached np his arms and drew Hugh down 
and kissed him. The poor, lonely pilgrim had found 
his brother. That they were together in jail for 
vagrancy or utter poverty did not make their meeting 
wholly without gladness. 

When the first thrill of joy left John free to think 
he told his brother of his five hundred-dollar hills 
and of Lawyer Eush. The jailer was also strangely 
interested. He telephoned to the office of Judson 
Eush. He came without delay. He walked in, his 
massive form erect, his head thrown hack, almost 
defiantly, hands thrust down deep in his pants pockets. 
He moved on and up with the stride of a conquering 
hero, saying, with an injured, indignant snort of 
righteous wrath: ^^So this is where I find you — the 
poet, the genius, the precocious apostle of social re- 
form, the evangel of applied and primitive Christian- 
ity, the pilgrim of righteousness! I have been look- 
ing for your triumphant entry into our benighted 
midst for more than two months. How I find you 
here — you, the boast and glory of Professor Broad- 
mind — ragged and in prison! Great Jupiter Pro- 
tector! But they have handled you without gloves. 


231 

Starving and in prison! Wedl see about this,” con- 
tinued the lawyer, with colossal assurance. 

^‘1 have money,” remarked John, in a vague, faint, 
thin voice. He then told the lawyer of the two bills 
and of the one held up in San Bernardino. He told 
all or most of the particulars. Bush asked to see the 
bill. Hugh felt down the vest pocket, took out the 
pin and passed the bill over to Eush, who looked at it 
closely, then offered to go out and get it changed. As 
it was after banking hours, he took it to other parties 
for examination and change. In half an hour he 
he returned and placed in John’s passive hands 
twenty-five double eagles, saying, cheerfully: ^^Here’s 
the gold. In a few days I’ll go up and fetch you the 
other five hundred. In the meantime we’ll get you 
out of this place.” Still John gave no sign that he 
heard the words spoken by the lawyer. 

Hugh gathered up the gold, tied it in a rag- and 
put it in John’s pocket, while the doctor whispered 
to Eush that John was worse — had a sort of relapse, 
was sinking fast, if not, indeed, dying. 

All were unprepared for this sudden change. Eush 
was amazed if not incredulous. He looked at John’s 
face. The whole expression was changed. There 
was a deathly pallor, a look of drawn, sunken collapse. 
There was dampness on his brow; his breath was short 
and quick; his eye glassy and roving. His hands and 
feet were cold. He picked at his covering. At times 
he hiccoughed and there was a rattling in his throat, 
as his cold breath came in short gasps. 

At length he opened his eyes, looking around to 


232 

Hugh, saying: ^^Oh, I am so hungry! Give me a 
cookie and a cup of milk.” - 

They gave him a cracker and a cup of white broth. 
He ate the cracker and drank the broth with relish, 
saying to Hugh: ^‘^Oh, that tastes good.” Then there 
came over his face the death change. His eyes rolled 
back in his head. He gasped once and ceased to 
breathe. 

As Hugh was holding him up in his arms, he could 
not see the change as soon as the others saw it. 

^^He has fainted!” exclaimed Lawyer Rush. ^‘Lay 
him down flat. He will come to sooner in that 
position.” 

The doctor said slowly: ^^No; he has not fainted. 
He is dead. It is all over with him now.” 

Hugh laid down the limp, pulseless form and 
slipped his hand down over the heart to feel if there 
was any sensible action of that organ. There was no 
apparent motion. 

Attorney Rush put his thumb and forefinger on the 
eyelids and pressed them down over the eyeball. 
Meanwhile the jailer brought a napkin to pin around 
the head to hold the jaw in proper position. 

Hugh was so overcome by the shock that he ahnost 
lost his usual coolness and presence of mind. 

The announcement of the physician was accepted 
by all as final. Even Hugh thought it was correct, 
as it was professional and therefore official. 

Notwithstanding this Hugh could not refrain from 
efforts to resuscitate. He asked the others to help 
him, but they stood back, silently wondering at the 


233 

madness of Hngli in Irving to bring life back to a 
corpse. Nevertheless he continued to work with 
faith and fury. The doctor looked on, incredulous, 
the jailer sorrowfully if not impaliently. Attorney 
Eush, standing witl? feet wide apart, hands in his 
pants pockets and cheeks pulfed out, as if to blow out 
a candle, was the embodiment of doubt and wonder. 

The Unterrihed seemed to forget their existence. 
He had but one supreme thought. His whole mind 
and soul were concentrated on his work. He rubbed, 
patted, bathed and made many mysterious passes and 
motions. His very hands seemed endowed with life- 
giving powers, for the face of the corpse grew less 
ghastly, a slight flush came over the cheeks, the eye- 
lids quivered and the lips moved and trembled. Then 
there was a slight gasp or two. The eyes opened and 
looked around with a rational, weary stare. 

Hugh deftly removed the napkin which bound up 
the chin and fanned his brother gently with an old 
newspaper, saying, tenderly: “There, now, you feel 
better. I thought you would.^’ 

“Yes,^^ whispered John faintly; “so much better,”’ 
then closed his eyes as if utterly exhausted. The doc- 
tor stepped forward, felt the pulse, placed his hand 
over the heart. The action was normal. 

The physician was more than astonished. He was 
confounded. He spoke to John and offered him a 
drink. John opened his eyes and said, faintly: 
“Where is my satchel? Here, put it under my left 
arm. Put it back so I can rest.” 

, They put the old carpet bag back under his left 


234 

arm, the doctor remarking that such, a support would 
relieve some strain, or internal injury, which he 
doubtless received in jumping from the car. 

Furthermore, the doctor was consuming with in- 
terest and curiosity. The zeal of an investigator was 
upon him. He asked John if he had any remem- 
brance or impressions while he was in the trance or 
unconscious state. 

‘^Yes,’’ answered John faintly; will tell you all 
as soon as I rest a little while.’^ 

Then the physician, with the enthusiasm of a stu- 
dent of nature, went over to Hugh, who was pale and 
bathed and dripping with perspiration, and asked 
what he had done and in what way or manner he had 
wrought this miracle, saying, with great earnestness: 
“This is a miracle, a veritable modern case of the dead 
coming hack to life. It is more than resuscitation; 
it is absolute resurrection. I am baffled. Science is 
stultified. What did you do to him that he who was 
dead is now alive 

“You saw with your own eyes all that was done. He 
has had these spells before; not quite so had, maybe, 
yet similar. I guess he has a tapeworm, or something 
of that sort. These bad turns always come on when 
he eats after fasting too long. He will get better now. 
Poor Johnnie was always a wormy little chap!” 

Hugh thought worms. The doctor thought 
miracles — the simple and the miraculous; the natural 
and the supernatural; the common and the marvelous. 

As John opened his eye and looked around for 
Hugh, who came up and asked him if he could do 


235 

anything for him, he, smiling a weak, sickly smile, 
said: is so fnnny. I want to tell yon my dream, 

or impressions, when I had that sinking spell. I 
thought I was dead and gently floating or drifting np 
and np and away. Sometimes it was like floating on 
billows that are not wet or watery. Sometimes it was 
as though we were flying on the bosom of the clouds. 
I had no pain, no fear, no effort; nothing real, but rest 
and joy, motion and mnsic. I told those with me 
that I conld not go aw'ay with them and leave my 
wmrk on earth undone. They askefl me my work and 
its object. I told them, for there seemed to be three 
with me, that I must bear the burdens of the weak, 
lighten the sorrows of the poor and cheated sons of 
toil. I must make the earth less hateful to the useful 
members of society. I must suffer more and sacriflce 
more for the starving poor and the sinful outcasts of 
earth. At this they halted and asked me what reward 
I expected for my labor among the poor and despised 
sons of earth. I answered: T expect poverty, obloquy, 
abuse, hatred, ignominy and the eternal enmity of 
those who live off the degradation of others. Then 
they asked me if I did not hope or desire other and 
better things for my earthly honor and comfort and 
I answered: ‘^ISTo; nothing more nor better than was 
given to Him of Nazareth.^ 

^^Then they consulted and said they would let me 
go back if I would tell them if I had not concealed 
some wish or motive for going back to earth. I told 
them there was one tiring of which I had not spoken. 
I had to deliver a certain package to a man who had 


236 

not always been a good man. I wanted to go back, 
that he should not condemn all men because of my 
failing to make good a certain trust. Then they 
looked at me kindly, almost with sorrow, and said: 
^Let him go back!’ Then one who seemed the leader 
touched my heart with his hand, that I might feel the 
misery of the poor slaves of vice, as though bound 
with their bonds. Then he touched my hands, that 
I might work for them; he touched my head, that I 
might think, plan and reason for them, and lastly he 
touched my lips, that I might speak for them. After 
that I felt myself alone and sinking down, down, 
down, lower and lower, till I opened my eyes and was 
here in prison. Now, isn’t that a funny dream?” said 
John, sadly. 

Hugh, the doctor, the jailer and Judson Eush 
thought it something more and beyond “funny.” The 
word “funny” did not in the least express their emo- 
tions. 

“What was it you wanted to do; what tru^t or pack- 
age to deliver?” asked Hugh, with some solicitude. 
“I may be able to help you.” 

“Yes; I will tell you some time, but I want Mr. 
Eush to write to-night to Arthur Arlington, Palace 
Hotel, San Francisco. Tell him to come here to Los 
Angeles to your office, for you will not know our ad- 
dress, and get his papers, which are all right. Tell 
him I am too sick to travel. In fact, tell him what 
you think best; only be sure and come or send a trusty 
person in his stead, as I am anxious to be relieved of 
my trust; something might happen to me.” 


237 

He had Hugh take the card from the pockethook 
for Lawyer Kush to inclose in his letter. The effort 
Avas great;, for John sunk hack fainting, yet soon re- 
vived in a weak, exhausted condition. They let him 
rest Avithout further annoyance. 


CHAPTER XYI. 


Hugh was left with John for the night. Food, rest 
and his brother had wrought a great change in J ohn 
Martindale. His face was less swollen and the pain 
had almost ceased. He rested well. He slept with 
the old carpet bag under his arm and with his right 
hand in that of his brother, Hugh. 

In the morning the doctor came, with Lawyer Rush 
and the jailer. They had consulted long and from 
different standpoints. They all agreed on one ques- 
tion; that it was not right, proper nor expedient, under 
existing circumstances, to hold or detain the two 
sons of the famous Colonel Martindale longer for 
vagrancy, especially the younger, who had money and 
had not begged nor asked fraternal aid nor comfort 
within the borders of Los Angeles county. Although 
the elder brother might be held, yet it seemed wiser 
to let even him go free, although it might be a stretch 
if not a strain of statute authority. Inasmuch as 
mercy becomes the pdge, so also does it become the 
municipality. This last humane and generous con- 
clusion was reached after Lawyer Rush had eloquently 
if not menacingly dwelt on certain gross abuses, as 
well as the breach of constitutional civil rights, in 
the arrest, conviction and incarceration of John Mar- 
tindale. 


.238 


239 

The jailer was a wise man as well as a jnst man; 
just to himself and to the city as well as just to John 
Martindale. lie saw no good nor necessity in stir- 
ring up the mysteries and unventilated odors of the 
municipal bastile. Furthermore, there was a vigor in 
the hand and arm of Attorney Eush which portended 
a general commotion of things, with odors of surpass- 
ing unpleasantness. It was a case where prudence, 
mercy and discretion could act in harmony. The 
whole affair was quietly if not secretly arranged. Even 
the sharp-nosed reporters went by without detecting 
an item. It is thus that wise officials, by the direct 
use of whitewash, conceal the sulphurous fumes of 
€ur social gehenna. 

Consequently J ohn and Hugh were told their cases 
had been reversed, reconsidered, or re-somethinged, 
and it was thought that leniency and mercy were the 
better part of municipal justice. Therefore they were 
at liberty to depart, even the usual fine being omitted. 

Attorney Eush sent a clerk from a clothing house, 
who measured the brothers with much haste and deft- 
ness. He went out, but soon returned, bearing a 
huge bundle. Meanwhile a bath and a barber made 
the change of clothing like a metamorphosis. 

Hugh looked in a mirror. He gave a loud whistle, 
sa5dng, with a sheepish smile: ^^Gee whizz! Who 
am I?’^ 

But John gave no heed to raiment. He was too 
sick and weak to think much of elegant looks or out- 
ward adornment. Still, he was not devoid of poetical 
love of beauty; but his swollen, disfigured face an- 


240 

no3;ed him even more than rags or soiled garment s- 
He thought his worth, his manhood, was found and 
grounded within himself and not in his new, stylish 
dress. 

As Hugh had carried John into Jail so he brought 
him out. The only difference was in his thoughts 
and feelings. How it was the Joy of rescue; then it 
was the mad agony of carrying a dying brother into 
the dungeon of a Spanish inquisition. The brothers 
went Larvyer Rush to a cheap but pleasant room- 
ing house. They engaged a large furnished room for 
thr ee dollars a week. To John and Hugh this cheaply 
furnished room was not only comfort but luxury itself, 
with its two large windows, its clean bed and cot, its 
dresser, table, rocking chairs and wardrobe. They 
had slept by the roadside, fence corners and under 
trees. Whosoever has been forced to accept the hos- 
pitality of these can bear witness to their incomplete- 
ness. Here and there were palms in the lawn and 
roses, carnations, geraniums, calks and an endless 
variety of beautiful vines. 

John had the cot brought by the window, while 
Hugh piled up the pillows, that he might lie and look 
out the window down on the Eden below. He tried 
to forget some unpleasant things and hold his mind 
down to the beautiful trees, fruits and flowers. To 
him the whole earth began to seem beautiful and 
mankind merciful, generous and good, a sure sign 
that life is going well with us. 

Hugh threw himself down on the bed, as if to make 
sure it was his by right and priHlege. He remarked, 


241 

with a sigh of regret, that if he only had the Herald 
his happiness would be complete. 

J ohn handed him money, telling him to go out and 
buy papers, magazines and such things as they needed 
for use or comfort. 

They were to board themselves, buy cooked food, 
live cheaply, but far better than the begging tramps — 
the children of the highways. 

Hugh returned with his hands full of papers and 
a large market basket of supplies, together with two 
plates, two cups, two knives, forks and spoons. 

They lunched happily, as little children playing at 
housekeeping. They w^ere so grateful, so thankful, 
and the lunch seemed so delicious. They had each 
been obliged to beg the bread of tramps, which is 
seldom fresh or lavishly spread with good butter and 
jelly. 

They were both chronically hungry, having fasted 
long and frequently. It was days and days before 
they ceased to be tormented with the greedy, raven- 
ous longing for something more to eat. 

Hugh appointed himself John^s nurse and guard- 
ian. He was iron in his limit and range of diet, but 
John was too weak and contented to offer much re- 
sistance. Moreover, he loved, trusted and venerated 
this elder brother. Whatsoever Hugh said went with- 
out question. However, J ohn^s greedy eyes told what 
his tongue refused to make known. 

In the evening Kush and the doctor called. The 
doctor brought washes and lotions for John’s face, 
which was less swollen, though discolored and deeply 


24:2 

marked with red scratches. After telling Hugh how 
to dress the injured face he went away, leaving the 
lawyer alone with the brothers. He had an order for 
the five hundred dollars held in San Bernardino. 
John signed the order. 

The lawyer was interested in the brothers. All 
that affected them appealed to his own heart. When 
John told him of Samuel Adams and his wretched, 
starving family he was not only sympathetic but 
promised to call and see them the next day. John 
gave him money to relieve their immediate wants, 
while the lawyer said he would go home and write it 
up for the Herald. But it was when the case of 
George and Jimmy was told him that his wrath burst 
forth. His words told the force, strength and vigor 
of the English language. Jimmy and George were 
to be looked after if money, telegraphs and American 
push could find them. 

He showed John a telegram he had received from 
Arthur Arlington, which was simply that he could not 
come himself, but would send down an agent for the 
papers. 

They talked long of social conditions, of the misery 
of the poor and unemployed. Their views and sym- 
pathies were harmonious. As Lawyer Rush rose to 
depart he turned to John and said: ^^Do you know 
any one by the name of Sunfiower Darling?’^ 

“Yes,’^ replied John, with a face growing so red 
that even the scratches looked pale. 

“Well, I had a letter from a person of that name 
telling of your probable death and making frantic 


243 

inquiries concerning you and your lost brother. I 
have not yet answered her letter. Shall I write to 
her or will you yourself write to her?^^ 

^^Give me her letter. I think I can write by to- 
morrow morning. I begin to feel strong and well.’"’ 

Eush handed John the letter with a knowing smile. 
From that hour John improved rapidly. Perhaps 
love, hope and happiness aided and hastened his re- 
covery. Who knows? Let them answer. 

John told his brother much of his life, his studies, 
his writings and of his perilous pilgrimage across the 
plains. He withheld some items, such as the unsav- 
ory identity of Dynamite and his own feelings toward 
Sunflower Darling. These he avoided or omitted. 
Hugh was neither inquisitive nor supercritical. What- 
ever John was free to tell he heard without much in- 
terest or emotion. He was thinking of the future. 
John was living and thinking of the present. 

To Hugh it did not seem remarkable that a stranger 
intrusted John with a large sum of money. The sons 
of Colonel Martindale were trustworthy. They were 
used to being trusted. It was their gift, talent and 
genius to be forever faithful. They accepted the faith 
of men, just as beautiful woman accepts the homage 
of men as their right and proper tribute. 


CHAPTEE XVII. 


The third evening after leaving the jail Lawyer 
Eush called with the money from San Bernardino. 
He gave John the full amount in gold, much to his 
own satisfaction. He related in full his tilt and 
jousting with the hank officials. The marshal was 
there and enjoyed the whole affair amazingly. To 
think that a hungry, ragged tramp had money and, 
furtherfore, told the truth, was a phase of the tramp 
question seldom exploited. It was an unknown com- 
bination. It was like a new species — a thing without 
name. Xo wonder they were taken in on the wrong 
side of the law. Furthermore, they made a written 
apology, regretting that the son of their old friend. 
Colonel Martindale, had not made himself known, as 
it would, for the sake of old comrades, have been a 
pleasure to render service to the son of this valiant 
old colonel. 

“1 am shocked and disgusted!” exclaimed John in 
righteous indignation. ^^The son of Colonel Martin- 
dale is no more worthy of bread than any other suf- 
i ering son of the Most High God. I was a-hungered, 
I was sick and they took me not in,” sighed John 
sadly. 

^'Oh, yes; they tried to take you in, but you skipped 
244 


245 

out/’ laughed Lawyer Eush, pleased at liis revised 
version of “taking in” the hungry and ragged. 

“Well, well/’ continued the attorney, “the poor and 
the unemployed are having a literal hell on earth. 
The white workers rival the black workers in poverty 
and political nothingness. Still, things are growing 
better. All evils to be removed or remedied must be 
first known, recognized and understood. Bigotry is 
less rampant and aggressive than formerly. The 
brotherhood of man and fatherhood of God are com- 
ing more to the front. Bigotry is losing its popular 
grip, but its arms are long, well-trained and tough. 
It dies hard. It gives many vigorous kicks and tries 
to get a new hold, a new' cinch, on the people. But 
it is doomed, it is fated to fall in spite of its struggles. 
Things look encouraging. If they go on improving 
in a few thousand years earth may be quite a good 
place for a soul to come down and inhabit for a few 
brief years.” 

“It seems a long time for us to wait,” remarked the 
Unterrified, dryly. 

“Perhaps it is long, but I dare not shorten the time 
and raise false hopes,” retorted Eush, musingly. 

“Still, if we each do our best we may hasten the 
good time foretold by poet, sage and prophet,” said 
John with youthful enthusiasm. 

“It is rather hard to work and sweat for bread and 
clothes and keep up the lofty standard of working for 
the universal elevation of humanity. The hungry 
and ragged have other thoughts and other aims,” re- 
marked Eush, gloomily. 


246 

^^That’s where the Lilies of Solomon get in their 
blow/’ added Hugh with fierce vigor. ^^They take no 
heed of the morrow, what they shalh eat or where- 
withal they shall be clothed. They go in for the ht- 
eral meaning of the whole thing/’ and Hugh laughed 
a cutting, mocking laugh that made John shiver. 

went to see Samuel Adams,” observed Kush, as 
if to change the current of thought. never thought 
or imagined such utter destitution, such meek starva- 
tion. God! If it was my children, starved to skin 
and bones; mere moving skeletons, encased in shriv- 
eled brown skin! The sight made me sick at my 
stomach. I carried them out a lot of supplies and a 
mess of cooked food; all I could stow away in the rig. 
Heavens! To see those skinny little skeletons snap 
their little hungry teeth into a chunk of stale bread 
was enough to make an angel weep. 

^‘^But I stirred up things when I got back to the sta- 
tion. I was loaded to the muzzle and I shot straight 
out into that Avell-dressed crowd. They looked fright- 
ened. I told them I was coming back in just one 
week and if they did not fix out that lot of starving 
babies before I returned they’d hear something drop. 
I told them to keep their eyes on the Times and Her- 
ald for the next few days as a sort of foretaste. I 
have written up the ease for both papers. But next 
week, if things do not greatly improve and Adams find 
work, then I will give them a scorcher, a roast worth 
remembering. They all understand this.” 

^^Did you talk with Adams himself?” 

^^Yes. He had on your shirtwaist shirt and pants 


247 

made from your blanket and looked almost human, 
hut his wife and children! My God, they were naked! 
!N’o thing hut groaning, weeping skeletons. It is a 
shame, a sin, an ahomination in the sight of God and 
man !” 

“1 must hurry and get strong. I have so much to 
do my work seems to call out to me even in the night, 
so I cannot sleep or rest.” 

“You are weak and nervous,” remarked Hugh. 
“You can’t change this hard, old, selfish, greedy 
world. No one can. It is heyond hope or help' — a 
gilded, gaudy mass of rottenness from center to cir- 
cumference.” 

“You are discouraged. Take heart. John is going 
to tr}^ his hand at the business — the simple task of 
universal reform and social purification,” laughed 
Rush in hopeful good humor. 

“I will devote my life to this work. If I fail others 
will rise up and continue the work. It is God’s work 
and it will he done, for he has promised it,” said 
John, with the fervor and faith of a poet. 

“Yes; you are right. This is your work. You 
were sent hack from the dead to work out some plan 
of the Almighty’s which we fail to understand. The 
professor wrote me you could write with a pen of fire, 
or flame, or some such hot stuff, so go ahead. Hurl 
your literary firebrands into the deadwood and rot- 
tenness of our social jungle and clear up the ground 
for the good seed of righteousness. Yes, yes; you 
came hack to life for some good and wise purpose. 
You came hack bringing a message of love and for- 


248 

bearance. You came back to be of some service to 
mankind, to sorrowing humanity, to the wretched, 
toiling, suffering Submerged Tenth. I believe this,” 
said Eush, solemnly, ^Tor you were dead as Lazarus, 
dead as a door nail, dead as an Egyptian mummy. 
Yet you were sent back to earth and to life for a pur- 
pose.” 

^‘^Oh, it is grand to be chosen of God to work and 
to suffer,” exclaimed John, with the zeal and faith of 
a martyr. “Hugh and Sunflower will help me in my 
great work of uplifting the weary and heavy- 
burdened.” 

“You can count me out on any such old, played- 
out game,” sniffed Hugh, in utter disgust. 

“He will help you, but not as a co-evangelist; but 
as a kind and loving brother, a domestic disciple, a 
man among men, and not a pearl before swine,” added 
Eush, encouragingly. 

“You bet, the Adventists are right. Hothing but 
fire, universal cremation, will purify this rotten old 
earth and reform the canting fools that run the job,” 
asserted Hugh, hotly. 


CHAPTR XVIII. 


The evening of the fifth clay the landlady knocked 
at their door, sa5dng there was a gentleman in the 
parlor who wished to see John Martindale alone in 
his room. 

“Who on earth can he be?’^ ejaculated Hugh in 
wonder. 

“It is Dynamite/’ answered John, in joyful excite- 
ment. “I have been expecting him ever since Lawyer 
Eush wrote to him.” Then, turning to the landlady^ 
John told her to tell the gentleman to come up with 
Hugh, who would go down with her and show the 
visitor up to their room. 

Hugh, who was quick to understand, went and led 
the old gentleman up to their door, which he threw 
open for the stranger, then discreetly turned and went 
out on the street, sauntering up and down, waiting 
hut not watching. 

The old gentleman was tall, yet much stooped, as 
though bent down with the weight of age. He walked 
with difficulty. His slow, shuffiing steps were as- 
sisted by a cane. His beard was long and snow white, 
like his hoary locks. Yet he was dressed with prim 
niceness and old-style elegance. In fact, he was what 
society calls a “venerable part}^” Xot withstanding 
his dress and artistic acting, John stepped up to him 
and caught his hand, exclaiming with joyful accent: 
249 


250 

I am so glad you came. The money and the 
satchel are all right and ready for you.’’ 

Then the visitor spoke, in a weak, tremulous voice, 
speaking slowly and solemnly: ^^My erring young 
friend, you seem to take me for some acquaintance. 
I am merely an agent, sent by parties wholly un- 
known, to receive from you a trust which you were to 
deliver to the order or person of Arthur Arlington. I 
have the order.” 

“No use for an order. I deliver it to you. Dyna- 
mite; to you in person. If you wished to disguise 
yourself you better wear gloves instead of carrying 
them in your hand. I would know your hands sooner 
than your face,” declared John, in tones of absolute 
certainty. “Come, take off your wig. Let me see 
yourself as you are and should be — a gentleman.” 

“So you know me, after all my fine make-up ?” 

“Yes; of course I do. Who else has such shapely 
hands, soft, smooth and hairless, like a woman’s hand; 
so small and such perfect nails and tapering fingers?” 

“Well, you are growing observing. My hands are 
the trade-mark of our family — gentlemen who do not 
work themselves, but make it up in working others. 
But, John, I am glad your face is not going to be 
scarred up and your cherub doll-face in the least 
marred.” 

Without seeming to notice the words of Dynamite, 
John handed him the old satchel, as though eager to 
be well rid of the whole affair. Dynamite took the 
old carpet bag, opened the false bottom and took out 
the bills, counting the packages, like one used to 
counting bank notes. He said, briefly: “All right. 


251 

I will carry this to my boarding house, then return 
and talk over some other minor matters.” 

He went out hurriedly, almost nervously. He was 
away less than five minutes and returned without the 
carpet hag. In fact, he went out where one of his 
brothers was watching the house to see if any treach- 
ery was going on around the place. The brother took 
the carpet hag and passed it on to the other brother. 

Dynamite, when he returned to John, was almost 
like himself; less watchful, hut more radiant and 
jovial. He questioned John about his journey. He 
seemed to ponder and look sad when he heard of the 
midnight slashing of the flour sack. He showed no 
resentment or desire for revenge, which somewhat as- 
tonished John, who was almost afraid to tell the whole 
terrible truth to one so reckless as Dynamite. Never- 
theless he heard the whole without passion or angry 
comment. Yet the case of Samuel Adams and also of 
the two brothers, Jimmy and George, moved him al- 
most to tears. He promised to look after the two 
wretched hrothei’^ and find them if money and enter- 
prise counted for anything. Still, there seemed some 
restraint in the actions of the ex-safe-opener. He 
seemed ill at ease; not distrustful, hut anxious. It 
annoyed him that John refused to take any more 
money from him. He seemed to think it was un- 
grateful not to enrich himself when he had an oppor- 
tunity. The more he urged J ohn the more emphatic 
grew his refusal. 

At length Dynamite could hide his displeasure no 
longer. He blurted out pointedly: ^^Say, hoy, who 
was that big fellow who led me up to your door?” 


252 

that is my brother, Hugh Martindale. He 
was with us in the cattle car. You fellows called him 
the IJnterrified.’’ 

thought as much,” replied Dynamite with some 
concern. 

^‘^You need not fear him. He is a Lily of Solo- 
mon. Besides, I have not revealed your identity even 
to my brother. The past is past. The future cannot 
change or improve the dead past. Why should it try 
to wreak vengeance for vengeance’ sake? I do not 
understand vengeance for the mere sake of punish- 
ment or revenge.” 

^That shows that you are not up in law or social 
methods. Do you ever intend to tell the Unterrified 
who and what I am, or rather have been ?” 

“Yo; never.” 

^^Yor set the law hounds on my trail?” 

^^Yo; never.” 

^T^Yr your sake and for my sake I am glad to hear 
you say so. Yow we understand each other as well 
as a saint can ever understand a repentant sinner. 
Yow I feel that I can begin life anew. Yow I can 
find ways to expiate my sins by doing good Avhere I 
have been doing evil. I shall join the Salvation 
Army and use most of my money to help them found 
a colony for the poor and homeless.” 

So saying he bade John farewell, giving him his 
card to give Hugh, as he said he very much wanted to 
see him as soon as possible at his hotel. On the card 
was printed the name “Arthur Arlington.” Beneath 
the name he wrote a few strange figures and signs. 


CHAPTEE XIX. 


Three weeks had passed. John was able to take 
long walks. Hugh always went with him, as though 
he still thought him somewhat of an invalid. Hugh 
had a passion for riding on cars; even cable cars; horse 
cars were better than no cars. At his suggestion they 
went down to Eedondo Beach, Long Beach and Santa 
Monica. 

John paid everything. Still, Hugh seemed to have 
plenty of money of his own, which seemed strange 
to John, in his worldly simplicity. Hugh did not 
seem inclined to economize. He at times was almost 
lavish, wanting warm meals at good eating houses. 
John was troubled. Hugh refused to husband their 
means as much as John thought prudent. The one 
thousand dollars must last till John found some hon- 
est way to earn a living for both, as he wanted his 
brother to live with him. Xot that Hugh was ob- 
stinate, but that John failed to impress his brother 
with his views of rigid domestic economy. Whenever 
John would say: ‘^We cannot afford to ride so much 
on the street cars,” then Hugh would say: can af- 

ford it; so come along. It is my treat. I will pay 
our fares.” 

This grieved and puzzled John, who was a good 
and prudent manager. J ohn feared that Hugh would 
253 


254 

again take to the highways if the day came when the 
thousand dollars was used np. It was this dread of 
losing Hugh which so depressed J ohn. 

At length Hugh observed that John was gloomy 
and secretly brooding over some imaginary trouble. 
He asked John what was going wrong; was he sick or 
expecting another letter of gushing slush fropi Sun- 
flower Darling. 

This stung John cruelly, just as Hugh intended. 
He meant to find out what was really the matter with 
his emotional brother. He succeeded better than he 
hoped or wished, for John unbosomed himself. He 
said: ‘^^Oh, Hugh, you mean to be good, kind and con- 
siderate, but we are spending money too fast. We 
cannot afford a warm meal every day, and then the 
car fare; that is too much. We cannot ride so much. 
We must retrench; cut down to bare necessities. One 
warm meal once a week is more than the poor, money- 
less tramps get. Let us not be too self-indulgent. 
Let us be contented with this nice room, with bread, 
water, cheese, crackers, cold meat and sometimes 
cakes and pies.’’ 

^•^Look here, Johnnie, I have to make a little con- 
fession. I didn’t mean to tell you for a long time. 
You are so queer about some things; but that Arthur 
Arlington of yours gave me, in trust for you, twenty 
thousand dollars in government three and four per 
cent bonds. Besides, he gave me a good little roll of 
bills, all for myself. The bonds are in the Los 
Angeles Safe Deposit. The money I have about me. 


255 

80 you see we can have two warm meals a day if we 
like and no danger of bankruptcy.’^ 

^^How could you take those bonds?” said John in 
reproachful sorrow. 

^^Easy as falling oft a log. He said it was a kind of 
expiation. How, when any one wants to expiate in 
that way I just say the Martindale family are agree- 
able, so long as the money holds out.” 

^^Did he tell you anything more?” 

^‘Yes; he said you were a babe, a fool, a suckling, 
so far as worldly wisdom and social methods were con- 
cerned.” 

“Poor old Dy Mr. Arlington. He meant to do 

me a kindness, but I am sorry you took the bonds. 
We may grow cold and proud like some other people.” 

“I will take the risk,” laughed Hugh complacently. 
“I have slept out in the rain, without supper or break- 
fast next day, too many times to take on airs because 
I now have food and shelter.” 

“I suppose we will be forced to keep the bonds.” 

“I sincerely hope so,” answered Hugh with em- 
phasis. 

“Hark! there is the postman’s whistle. He gave an 
extra blow, as though there were many letters,” ex- 
claimed John, not without excitement. 

Hugh ran downstairs and came back with three let- 
ters, one a large one, with two stamps. He gave the 
fetters to John, who said, musingly: “One from Sun- 
flower, one from Samuel Adams and the large one is 

from, I wonder who? Perhaps Hy Ho; Mr. 

Arlington. Here, brother, you read the one from 


256 

Samuel Adams. My eye is so weak I do not like to 
read such fine writing. Besides, I want you to know 
what he says.’^ 

Hugh opened the letter and read: 

^^Beloved and honored friend, John Martindale, 
tramp: We revere, adore and salute you. We are 
well; not only well, hut well fed, well clothed and 
well housed, thanks to you and to Judson Eush, your 
friend and my benefactor. We have moved into a 
real house. The children have clothes. You should 
see the poor, hungry things eat. It is enough to make 
the rocks cry for pity. Those angels the King^s 
Daughters are all you said and more. They found 
me work at Simons Brothers’ brickyards. God bless 
the Simons Brothers! They not only give work but 
good, fair living wages. Sometimes I cannot realize 
my good fortune. I look at my wife, in a new, clean 
blue calico dress and think of that gunnysack skirt 
and shudder. But it is not to gloat over my own good 
fortune that I trouble you with this long, wandering 
letter. I remember those in the bonds of hunger and 
destitution as though still bound with them. It »s 
for the poor, despised, hunted tramps that I write to 
you, knowing that you have felt their hunger and 
understand their helpless condition. I need not re- 
mind you of the cruel, unholy treatment which Chris- 
tian society is pleased to heap upon the unprofitable 
tramping tourists. You know the tramp statutes of 
California. A constable arrests any wallang stranger 
who is poorly clad and has no money to patronize 
lodging and eating houses. The constable receives 


257 

two dollars and a half for every such arrest. That is 
the legal fee and it is a poor day when the constable 
does not make one or more such arrests. Tramp- 
hunting is an affair of profit to the constable or 
deputies. They work the business for all there is 
in it. Then there is a fee to the judge who sentences 
and traveling fees for safe-conduct to jail; another 
fat job. Man-hunting, tramp-hunting, has become 
an active industry. Constables multiply and increase. 
They are arbitrary, absolute. They arrest the travel- 
ing tramps without writ or warrant, unless the ever- 
read}’, all-embracing John Doe warrant is their au- 
thority. A constable told me in confidence that 
neither writ nor warrant was needed or used in ar- 
resting vagrants, tramps or hoboes; that such persons 
had no appeal and no redress. 

^‘^Shades of my departed namesake! Here is human 
rights, the rights of man, civil rights, with modern, 
Christian applications, with a vengeance. To send a 
tramp to jail costs the taxpayers seven dollars, at the 
lowest average. They pay this freely, willingly, 
rather than give a hungry man — God^s child, their 
brother — a crust of bread or a ^cup of cold water^! 
This is called the higher civilization of Christian 
righteousness; Christianity, after nineteen hundred 
years of loving their neighbors as themselves! But 
it is not so much the tramps who suffer and are de- 
based by such arbitrary arrests as it is the public itself. 
Inhumanity and injustice are thereby taught to the 
young, the rising generation. The jail, the rock pile, 
the chain gang are brutalizing. They harden the 


258 ' 

beholder. They pollute the public more than they 
do the prisoners. This is the reflex action of all in- 
justice and inhumanity. It is nature’s own method 
of equality in all transgressions. It is the two-edged 
sword of eternal justice. It cuts both ways, him who 
wields and him who is smitten. 

“As my namesake loved America and worked for 
her good and her glory, so would I if I could. In 
writing to you and Judson Rush I do the most I can 
in my limited way. If you can act or work in a 
broader field I am content to have the work done, 
whosoever may be the visible, active agent. God 
bless 3^ou, for a true, manly American. 

“Samuel Adams. 

“P. S. — My wife has named our youngest son after 
you — his name is John Martindale Adams. She held 
this letter up to the baby’s lips for him to kiss the 
paper and send the kiss to you with his love and the 
love of the whole race of Adams.” 

When Hugh ceased reading he looked up at John 
critically, who remained thoughtful and silent, as 
one who accepts a holy, yet perilous, mission. Hugh 
reached over to John and touched the large letter, 
with two stamps on its soiled righthand corner. John 
bowed assent. 

Hugh read: “Hear Hnfledged Angel, Chick of a 
Cherub: I make haste to address you lest yon find 
your wings and fly away to realms of outer space, to 
watch the good and evil done on earth by unwinged 
mortals. If you still are earthly enough to feel an in- 
terest in the affairs of common, plodding, sinning 


259 

mortals 3^011 may not then look upon my letter as 
an impertinence, nor upon my notes and comments as 
vain mouthings. 

^‘Let this suffice for an opening. I went to see 
your ex-tramp, ex-suicide friend, Samuel Adams. 
Alas! I found others, more worthy, had been there 
before me. Notwithstanding this, he deigned to re- 
ceive a few tokens of my good will and much-filled 
purse. I listened with some patience to songs, can- 
tatas and oratorios — all in lofty strains of laudation 
of one John Martindale — tramp beggar and apostle 
of human brotherhood. I telegraphed on to find 
3^our ‘George and Jimmy,’ hut without much en- 
couragement. I went on to Phoenix, found the Dar- 
lings — nice lot of folks — en]03dng a rampant and 
healthy poverty. I did them all the harm 1 could by 
removing the spur and goad of abject poverty and 
setting them up on the high-horse of wealth. Your 
Sunflower is a daisy. I gave her a pony and some 
gold to buy her wedding toggery. She blushed a 
fine color. You need not he jealous, hut she did kiss 
me — my face, my hands and my trousers legs — so her 
big brother said. 

“After having put the Darling family on a fair road 
to trouble and torment, I returned to Barstow, to go 
over the trail of ‘George and Jimmy’ to some purpose. 
Now when take a trail in real earnest it means 
business. I bought some horses, hired some cowboys 
and lit out. We followed the railroad track, making 
inquiries of section men and station agents. ]\Iany 
had seen George and Jimmy. They were everj^where 


260 

reported starving and suffering from thirst. They 
were often driven off from the track, hut as often re- 
turned. The large brother seemed defiant and des- 
perate. The invalid, meek and mournful. When last 
seen by the station agent the larger brother was car- 
rying the other on his hack. A section hand saw the 
athlete carrying the other thrown over his shoulder 
like a sack of corn. He thought he must be carrying 
a corpse, as he turned off up into a little valley and 
was lost to sight. This section hand said the brothers 
were both like skeletons — nothing hut hones, covered 
with brown, parched, wrinkled skin. They looked 
more like ghostly specters than like live, moving men. 
I grew interested — excited, determined. We followed 
up the valley where they were last seen to leave the 
track. We rode up and down the valley looking, 
hunting and trailing. At length I saw an oblong, 
oval little wall that had a strange and suggestive form 
and structure. We went there; we found the broth- 
ers — thas is, their bodies. They had been dead many 
days. 

^^The invalid must have been dead when his brother 
carried his body over his shoulder up the valley. Ap- 
parently George intended to give the body decent 
burial. He had scooped out the dry, loose sand; made 
a shallow pit, which he walled around with stone. In 
this inclosed pit he had placed his brother’s body. 
George then brought sand in a gunny sack and 
poured it over the thin, emaciated body of poor, pa- 
tient Jimmy. The task must have been long and 
laborious for one so weak and dying of starvation. 


261 

But the saddest blot of this dark stain on the fair face 
of civilization remains a reproach forever. George, in 
emptying a sack of sand over the body, either fell 
within the stone wall from exhaustion or design. At 
least, he lay dead, over the sand-covered body of his 
brother. We examined the bodies. The brothers had 
died of starvation, thirst and utter despair. They 
were so thin and flesh] ess that neither buzzard nor 
coyote would deign to come near them. In fact, there 
was not enough fle.sh on their bones to make a scent, 
smell or odor. Their bodies were like dried bones 
wrapped in leather! We built the wall a little higher, 
brought a few more sacks of sand and rounded up 
their double grave. The cowboys made a few pointed 
remarks which would neither look nor sound well in a 
letter. I myself made no comment; I generously 
leave that part for yourself and your friend Eush — 
Jud Eush, the orator. 

“You may want to hear something concerning my 
unworthy self. In health, I am well; in spirit, hope- 
ful and happy. I have joined the Volunteers of 
America — the Salvation Army of Uncle Sam. You 
may be shocked and think I have no right to intrude 
among those who have never sinned as I have sinned. 
I joined to do good, receive good and keep good. I 
have bought 100,000 acres of land in Texas. We 
will found a colony of the unemplo 3 ^ed poor. I 
have sketched out the whole scheme — they let me do 
this, as I furnish the land and the money for the 
whole enterprise. The Volunteers do the spiritual 
part and add character and dignity to the affair. I 


262 

furnish cash iuid they furnisli confidence. The land, 
is good; much will produce cotton; it can be tilled or 
XTsed for grazing. There is both wood and water. My 
central idea is limitation. If it is right and expedient 
to limit the number of wives that one man can legally 
marry, much more is it right and expedient to limit 
the number of acres of land any one man can have, or 
possess, lawfully. To promote the general welfare — 
the greater good for the greater number — this limita- 
tion of land is absolutely necessary. Our charter will 
read that no one individual, within the colony, shall 
or can own but forty acres at one and the same time. 
This limitation knocks greed, cunning, covetousness 
and cupidity in the head. Of course, for a long time 
there will be common land, to be n^ed for grazing and 
general purposes. I shall build a cheap house on each 
forty acres, fronting on long, wide streets. I shall 
furnish teams, cows, poultry, machinery, provisions 
and decent furniture. At the end of five years of 
continuous residence each head of a family will be 
given an absolute warranty deed of his homestead. 
Of course, there will be common, or general, build- 
ings — schools, halls, libraries and all such improve- 
ments. I only give you the outline, with the central 
idea — limitation. 

'T never was so happy in all my life. I begin to 
think life, after all, is really worth living. It may 
seem foolishness to you, but I seem to be walking on 
air, with my head up among the heavenly hosts. I 
have no fears nor troublesome torments. Men seem 
good or almost ready to become good. The sun, the 


263 

flowers, tlie whole face of nature grows lovable and 
glorious. I guess 1 better stop right here or yon may 
think I am off my base. I can tell you, John Martin- 
dale, my boy, yon are on the right track, on the warm 
trail. If mankind are ever saved from sin it will be 
by human goodness, human love and human brother- 
hood. God will not change. It is man who must 
change. Man who must love his brother man. Yon 
are right in working to promote love, unity and 
equality among God’s earthly children. I may not 
see the grand consummation of this Brotherhood of 
Love, yet I am going hencefoidh to work in my own 
way to help on the good cause. That my heart is less 
given to sin I will give you one proof. I bear no 
hatred or desire to reek vengeance on Uncle Collis 
for cutting those holes in your flour sack, for I bailed 
him and Uncle Sam out of a Teaxs jail. They have 
left the state and I will have to pay the bonds. I may 
sometime visit you in your own home. I shall keep 
track of you — always. Write me at my new address — 
Gracchus, Texas; care Volunteers of America. Your 
most loving friend, Arthur Arlihgtox.” 

When Hugh ceased reading he looked up at John 
and said: 

^^A new recruit,” then folded the letter and 
handed it over to John, who remained silent and 
thoughtful. 

^AYhy don’t you read that girl’s, instead of sitting 
there like a marble statue?” 

don’t know. I feel queer. I think I am going to 
faint, or something. That about George and Jimmy 


264 

has taken all the hope and life out of iny soul and 
body. Let me lie down on the cot. There, now, you 
may read Sunflower’s letter to me and the spell may 
pass away.” 

Hugh understood that an instant change of his 
thoughts might drive away the faintness. He tore 
open the letter and read in a gentle, sympathetic voice, 
though much inclined to assume a far different tone. 
To him the letter was gushing, trivial and egotistic, 
hut he loved John and made haste to turn his mind 
from thoughts of Jimmy and George. For this rea- 
son he waited for no invitation to read the letter from 
Sunflower Darling. He read: 

^“^Dear Friend, John Martindale: You make a 
slight mistake when you address me ‘^Darling Sun- 
flower’ — my name is Sunflower Darling. I was 
awfully tempted to pay you off in your own coin and 
call you ^Darling Johnnie’ at the head of this letter, 
as you always make such a muddle of my name at 
the beginning of all your letters. Still, I will for- 
give you, as you always seem to get my name in right 
position on the outside of the envelope. 

^^Happy is a mild, unmeaning word; I am wild with 
joy — shouting, singing; mad with rapture and de- 
light. Oh, I am so happy! I cannot bear to sleep 
nights for fear I may forget my happiness and go to 
dreaming of our many calamities in dear old un- 
fortunate Kansas. I sing from morning till night, 
much to the disgust of my big brothers; but my heart 
is so full of joy I just have to sing. I seem to sing in 
spite of myself. The earth is so beautiful and the 


265 

people so good. I wish I could live forever and ever. 
I am so happy I get up in the morning at three o’clock 
and call the others to get up, so that they may re- 
joice, be thankful and lose no time in sleep, with all 
our great happiness just running to waste. It is a 
pity not to enjoy every possible moment of such un- 
heard-of blessings. I take great pleasure in counting 
over our many blessings and thanking God for each 
one as I count them off. This morning I counted oif 
fifty-three great and wondefrul blessings that had 
been given us right here in Arizona. You may not 
believe it, but father and Jane said I left out more 
than I had counted. 

^^Oh, I forgot; I have not told you how, why and 
when this mighty flood of good things came to us. 
I suppose 3'Ou guess — it all came through your good, 
kind and noble friend, Arthur Arlington. If there 
ever was a saint — an angel — a man going about mak- 
ing folks happy, that man is Arthur Arlington. God 
bless him and may his tribe increase. It is all so 
wonderful, so rare and unexpected that I am dazed; 
I pinch myself to see if I really am awake or just 
dreaming. It is so passing belief that I sometimes 
think it must be a miracle. This much I think I 
know: God put it in the heart of this grand and good 
man — Mr. Arlington — to do this loving, brotherly, 
generous thing for us. Oh, he looked so grand and 
glorious when he came in and handed poor father the 
deeds, all signed and made out. Poor father cried 
like a baby when he read the deeds and understeed all 
what it meant to us. I just threw myself down on the 
floor at Mr. Arlington’s feet and hugged his knees 


266 

and kissed his hands — and those awful brothers of 
mine declared I kissed Mr. Arlington's trousers legs, 
but I don’t believe them; anyhow, I cried worse than 
father did and so did Jane. The boys had to laugh to 
keep from crying too. George said we all made a 
‘holy show’ of ourselves, if you know what kind of a 
show that is. I certainly do not. Anyway, Mr. 
Arlington understood, for he said his joy was greater 
than ours — and I believed him; so did Jane, for she 
was the first to speak and said in such a strange, far- 
away voice: ‘Truly, it is — it must be — more blessed 
to give than to receive!’ 

“Then that miserable brother George had to laugh 
again. Why brothers see so much to laugh at in their 
sisters and so much to adore in other girls is a mys- 
tery to me. Mr. Arlington, that grand and good man, 
seemed transfigured there before my very eyes. He 
seemed to become an angel of light, with a smile like 
a benediction. His face was radiant — I saw it sur- 
rounded with light, like a sunburst, or halo. AVhen 
I told our folks what I saw they looked incredulous, 
while George, that wicked tease, said it was all in my 
eye. I don’t care whether they could see it or not, it 
was there all the same. 

“Oh, you must come to Phoenix and see our grand 
place! The house was built by a wealthy Englishman 
for himself and family, but he was called back to Eng- 
land, so he sold the place near Phoenix — furniture, 
horses, carriages and a large cattle ranch and stock — 
sold all to IMr. Arlington, who had the deeds made out 
for father. We are now living in the grand house, 
amid luxury and splendor. Jane takes to the new 


267 

order of things better than any of the others. She 
says she always had a hankering for grandeur; but 
the boys say it is show business, learning to jab a lit- 
tle bit of potato with the dull tines of a silver fork, but 
I think of nothing in particular — it is the vast grand 
whole that fills my soul with joy. blow, father can 
read the papers, look off and enjoy the scenery, with- 
out worrying about future food and shelter. Father 
looks happy and contented, as all old men should. 

‘^You must come. I have chosen the rooms for you 
and your brother. I am fixing, changing and arrang- 
ing the things so as to be both beautiful and homelike. 
Jane just came in the room where I am writing to tell 
me to be sure and insist on your brother’s coming to 
live with us. She says the great house will be lonely, 
if not gloomy, without you both. I wish you would 
come by the very first train that leaves Los Angeles. 
Why should you stay there? You have found your 
brother, now bring him here. We Avant him as well 
as yourself. I shall look for you every train until 
you come. I shall sit on the balcony and keep an eye 
on the street. I know you must come, because Ave all 
Avant you so much. Do come soon and not keep me 
sitting out on the balcony till I catch my death cold. 
Just grab up your things and come along. You can 
buy clothes here. My brothers bought ever so many 
suits, but they look best in riding — coAvboy — suits, 
leggins, SAveaters and sombreros. They are such fine 
horsemen — such elegant, graceful riders. The boys 
send Avord for you to come, and come at once. They 
AA^ant you and your brother to come, so as to go with 
them doAAm to the cattle ranch and look over the 


268 

herd and go hunting or something equally interest- 
ing. Yon need not think you are intruding; all our 
good fortune came to us because we were good and 
friendly to you. Father says you must come and share 
the good luck you brought us. We, each and all, as 
one voice say: ^John Martindale, come! Come and 
bring your brother!^ Yours most truly, 

‘^'SuiTFLOw^ER Darling.’’ 

When Hugh had finished reading the letter he 
looked at John critically, if not curiously. What he 
saw was enough to convince him that the die was cast, 
the thing settled, the invitation accepted and the 
packing about to begin. Still, he waited for John to 
speak, to say wdiat was on his mind without aid or 
promptings. John also waited, hoping Hugh would 
say or do something to make the decision less embar- 
rassing. Finally John said, with bashful insinuation: 
^WYll, Hugh, what had we better do.” 

^Dh, pack up this very day and rush off to Arizona 
on the first train to-morrow,” sniffed Hugh, with 
brotherly disgust and mockery. ^^Jane wants me to 
come; I am frantic; I can’t hold myself, I am so eager 
to get there!” 

‘^Don’t he sarcastic. It is not like you, Hugh. I am 
sorry you don’t want to go to-morrow, for I wish, so 
wish, we could go; hut it shall he as you wish, as you 
say,” sighed John in helpless resignation. 

“You have spoken, brother John; enough said; we 
go, and go to-morrow morning,” laughed Hugh, like 
one who accepts his fate with decent composure. 

They went. 


THE END. 






V 


Y 


V 




• * • 


f 


I 


r 








> 





-t 

' • . 



w 

V.* 


r 




I 







■ 








« 


I 




\ 



< ( 






\ 


\ 


1 


t 


t 


t 








«• 



* 



/ 






I 


V 



APR V 'S99 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proces 
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 



PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES. INC 
1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Two.. PA 16066 






